Us Against the World
by The Toe of Sauron
Summary: Or, 28 Twins. IDW-AU. Sideswipe: gung-ho prankster. Sunstreaker: ego-centric sociopath. Inseparable. Unstoppable. Loyal to the end. Or, at least, that’s what everyone thought. Pre-Earth.
1. Naughty

Disclaimer: Transformers and all related intellectual property belong to Hasboro/Takara and IDW. I own none of them and make nothing from this.

Warning: This fic may contain material unsuitable for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

Rated T for violence and thematic elements.

**Us Against the World**

**01. Naughty**

_Present day - Thunderhead Pass, Cybertron_**  
**

Sideswipe stares down at the communications terminal and finds that he cannot move. Outside, in the courtyard where Leadfoot had died and some mutant freak had almost blown his legs off, Sideswipe can hear the rest of his team packing up. Clanging and scraping, someone shouting to "get that beam secured before the whole slagging pile comes down!"

None of this matters. The only thing that does, the only thing he sees is the floating glyphs of a message flagged from Optimus Prime. He has read it three times now and still can't quite comprehend it. The words themselves are simple enough: "Take your team to Garrus-9." Easy enough for a protoform to understand. But he stands there and stares and reads it again.

_Something is wrong_.

Garrus-9 is not Earth. It's nowhere near Earth. It's not even a quick detour on the way to Earth. It's actually about two wormhole jumps in the opposite direction.

Sideswipe checks the marker again, re-reading what he already knows. It _is_ from Prime. It matches all the right Autobot encryption codes, so it's probably not a Decepticon forgery. He wishes it were.

_You have to do something_.

He wants to sit down. He'd had a feeling something was up even before the voice had started talking to him. Everyone dismissed it as a glitch in his programming, blamed it on his being a twin, blamed it on Sunstreaker. There was some truth to that, but not in the way that Hound and Warpath and Skram thought.

Sunny had been missing for two orns, kidnapped by the flesh-bag species on some mud-ball they called "Earth." Optimus Prime—through Hound—had assured Sideswipe that they were doing everything they could to find Sunny and bring him back, that Sideswipe needed to stay with his unit, that they wouldn't stop until his brother had been found. But Sideswipe knew, he _knew_ that it wasn't true. And so he'd waited until Skram had been called away from his post by the Communications Center and slipped in and hacked the database.

_You're out of time_.

They were abandoning Sunstreaker.

He feels cold. It's an odd kind of cold, not something he picks up on his sensors. It's internal. He lifts a hand to exit out of the program and wonders for a moment why his fingers are so sluggish. The outside clamor is muted and if he listens carefully, he can swear that there's some kind of buzzing noise, light, distant. He knows that sound. He's heard it twice before.

He pulls himself away from the terminal and the world snaps back into focus. Skram is still helping Warpath load a crate onto one of the repulsor lifts. They'll be finished within a joor or two. Jetfire and his team are inside the makeshift prison, setting up their own equipment with Hound. His team's ship is on the far side of the base. He'd have to get past Warpath and Skram to get to it and he knows that they'll wonder why he's away from his own post. They'll contact Hound. Jetfire's ship is much closer and, as far as Sideswipe can tell, the only mech onboard is the pilot.

No one sees him slip out and around the side of the building. No one sees the extra struts and plating slide down over his arms, forming his best weapon. No one but Sunny, anyway. But Sunny stays quiet, content to walk along beside him as Sideswipe heads up the ramp and into the other ship.


	2. Happy

All following chapters take place before Chapter 1.

**

* * *

02. Happy**

_Backwards Time Skip - Ark 22_

Sunstreaker sits in the dark, listening to the muffled clunking of 'bots passing by outside, watching Sideswipe try to stay upright. The red mech is slumped on the edge of his recharge berth, his optics just starting to dim. He's been going on for a few breems now. Sunstreaker isn't paying much attention anymore, just enough to make sure that the glitch doesn't slide off the berth. He knows it won't be too much longer before the high-grade burns out and his brother falls into stasis. He knows this because Sideswipe is chatty and he always gets chatty right before he goes offline. This is different from his regular schmoozing in two ways: One, he's rambling. He'll trail off into silence for a moment before picking back up, sometimes on a totally different topic. And two, he's being honest.

"I really missed you, you know," Sideswipe says.

Sunstreaker knows his brother. Despite what anyone says, despite that long separation and the scuffles that come up now and again, Sunstreaker knows Sideswipe better than any mech ever built. So he knows that while Sideswipe is not actively _dis_honest, he never tells the whole truth. Not usually. He knows that while Sideswipe presents himself as some kind of happy-go-lucky jokester, it's just another of his half-truths.

"You don't… you don't even know. When they found you and they were, they were gonna… and slaggit! Now I… I've fought some pretty, uh, pretty tough 'cons. Have you ever _seen_ those Seekers of yours? Only, I guess they're not _your_ Seekers, but… those slag-suckers are monsters! One almost squished me! _Squished me_, Sunny. Like… like…" Sideswipe claps his hands together and reels back. Sunstreaker knows that the short fall to the floor won't hurt him, but he watches him anyway, ready to haul his brother back up. "And they just… and I thought you were dead."

Sideswipe falls silent for a moment as his optics flicker. His overtaxed systems are starting to shut down. Sunstreaker tries to focus on that and not the memories that are being dredged up.

"They were just standing there," Sideswipe says. His vocalizer has quieted a little. It's hard to hear him over the humming of the ship. "I _knew_ they weren't gonna let you… I've never been that scared. _Never_. And so I, I hit that one. Slagging mini-bot. Fragger's got a mouth on him. Got him pretty good, too. But then that rust-bucket _Prowl_ shows up."

Sideswipe starts to lean forward, slow at first, but he doesn't right himself. Sunstreaker can see that he's on his way to the ground so he stands, catching the red 'bot just before he folds over his own lap. As he eases Sideswipe back, the red twin says, "Missed you. I… I really…glad. Thought I'd never…"

His optic covers go dark as Sideswipe loses his ability to keep his sensors and targeting systems online. But Sunstreaker can tell that the optics themselves are still active. His brother isn't offline yet. As he lifts Sideswipe's legs up onto the berth, his twin reaches up, his fingers brush down Sunstreaker's arm. Sunstreaker turns and in the dim light from his own optics, he can see the pained expression on his brother's face.

"I _miss_ you," Sideswipe says.

One by one, non-vital systems fall silent until the only sound coming from Sideswipe is the soft whir of his coolant fans. Sunstreaker stares at the now limp hand lying next to his own. For a long moment, he doesn't move. When he does, it's to carefully sit down on the floor, back propped up against his brother's berth. He lets his head fall back and turns just a little, enough to feel Sideswipe's hand against his facial plating. In the dark, where no one can see, Sunstreaker allows himself a small smile.

* * *

Thanks to Thing With No Talent for the review!


	3. Silly

Note: 'Vos' is a city. 'Metra' is a unit of length that I made up (Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are about 1.6 metras tall).

**

* * *

**

**03. Silly**

_Backwards Time Skip - Cybertron_

For a good, long moment Sunstreaker just stares. There isn't much else he can do. The scene before him—or _above_, actually—is almost beyond his capacity to process. He can't even think of anything to say.

"Hey! Who is that?"

He'd been sent by some sub-commander or another to retrieve his brother, last seen clutching the back of a Decepticon Seeker screaming something about a "jet judo" as he disappeared over the ruins of Vos. That was a half of a joor ago. Sunstreaker had been looking for four breems, alone, until he came across one of the last standing buildings, confused as his systems told him that he should be standing right on top of his target. And then he'd looked up.

"Hello?"

Sunstreaker actually has to bite back a bark of laughter.

Almost ten metras up the face of the shattered building are a set of silver and black legs. They're kicking back and forth and he can hear a muffled thumping coming from within. Sideswipe's front half is inside the building. And he appears to be _stuck_.

"Seriously, who's out there?"

Sunstreaker can't bring himself to answer. He hears a loud _whump_ and Sideswipe's legs lift up and thrash around. A few nano-kliks later and the scuffling noises stop and the legs fall back to dangle in the air.

"Okay, look. I don't care who you are. Can you just help me out of here?"

He supposes he should radio for assistance. It looks like they're going to have to cut through the wall to get Sideswipe out without taking off a limb. Several mechs back at base camp have tools that will get the job done. But as he stands there, staring, a horrible idea begins to form in his processor.

* * *

By the time they make it back to base the story has already spread. As they pass by a group of sentries, the Autobots nudge each other and snicker. For once, it's Sideswipe who scowls and threatens dismemberment while Sunstreaker walks along behind him, expression blank.

"Gossiping little rusted piles of slag," Sideswipe mutters and Sunstreaker watches him shift uncomfortably.

He doesn't respond.

"I swear, the next one to say anything is going to get a mouthful of pain," Sideswipe continues.

From Sunstreaker's position, the silver marks don't look like anything in particular; just a few squiggled lines on Sideswipe's back-side. The full effect can only be enjoyed from a further distance, as a new burst of laughter from behind demonstrates. Sideswipe half-turns, optics glowing almost white, and raises one arm in mid-transformation to his beloved pile-driver.

"All right, who was that?!"

Sunstreaker, struggling to keep his customary scowl on his face, reaches up and grabs his brother's arm, pushing it back down as he steers him forward.

"Just get to the slagging medic," he says.

Sideswipe grumbles but shifts his arm back and resumes trudging. Sunstreaker waits a moment, lets Sideswipe pull ahead just enough so he can catch a full glimpse of his handiwork. It's been smudged a little—Sideswipe had spent his first few breems of freedom cursing and trying to wipe it off—but the binding agent smeared on still looks like a face with some stupid grin. Which Sunstreaker had promptly said looked a lot like Sideswipe's own stupid grin and almost got his head taken off.

"When I find that Decepticon fragger I'm going to rip his arm off and make him _eat_ it," Sideswipe says as they pass by a team of Autobots who start laughing so hard that one of them drops his end of a shipping container. "How did that slag-face get up there, anyway?"

Sunstreaker shrugs.

"You said he was already on the ground when you got there?" Sideswipe says.

"Yeah."

Sideswipe starts cursing again.

A large, white 'bot to their right cheers and says, "Hey, that's a nice look for you 'sides!"

"'Sides" glares and mutters, "I'm going to beat him."

Sunstreaker's just glad he walking behind his brother so Sideswipe doesn't see him twitching.

The field medic is set up on the other side of base camp, past the fortifications, past the transport landing pads, and past the refuel stations. It's a long way to go in a bustling battle-camp with your aft sporting graffiti and Sunstreaker is going to make sure that everyone gets an opportunity to admire his work.

"I'm going to _kill_ that slagger," Sideswipe says.

* * *

Thanks go out to **Elita One**, **Sunstreaker**, and **Fanatical-Chick **for their awesome-sauce reviews.


	4. Angsty

**04. Angsty**

_Backwards Time Skip - Cybertron_

It was stupid, thinking everything would be okay, thinking things could go back to normal. Of course Sunstreaker wasn't going to accept what had happened and be happy with it. Even before all this slag had started, he would have considered it beneath him. Sideswipe knew the Decepticons operated differently. They prized strength above everything else, after all. It made perfect sense to such creatures that any sort of remark or look that could in any way be taken as a challenge would be met with swift, physical violence. They'd all learned that the hard way those first orns after Sunny had woken up.

He'd thought they could deal with it. That maybe, with Sideswipe there, Sunny would calm down. He thought he could get his brother back.

It had been a stupid hope.

Sideswipe didn't even know what had happened, though he doubted it was something as simple as a fight. He knew what Sunny was capable of. It wasn't always firsthand knowledge, but he'd seen the aftermath. He'd heard the stories.

They'd called him a monster.

It was his fault. Sideswipe should have never let him walk away that night. Sunny had made his intentions clear, then, but Sideswipe had blown them off like so much hot exhaust. But Sunstreaker had been serious and it soon became apparent that he was not coming back; he'd joined Megatron. Sideswipe should have gone after him, should have dragged him back, kicking and screaming.

But he hadn't.

He'd known then that Megatron was a menace. Sideswipe wasn't exactly made of chrome and shine but even he had his limits. In all honesty, he had expected Sunstreaker to see the error of his ways and come back. They'd never been separated for so long, never been alone. Sideswipe felt the wear on their link and knew that for Sunny, it had to be worse. He'd succumb soon and come back and then they would apologize like they always did and everything would go back to normal. But it had dragged on and on. Sideswipe had felt the strain building and had tried several times to contact his wayward brother. Sunny never responded.

And then, one orn, Sunstreaker cut himself off entirely.

Sideswipe didn't remember much after that. All he knew was that he'd woken up in the med bay some time later with a raging ache in his processor to find Ratchet standing over him and the tight-aft Second in Command waiting to escort him to the brig. Things were different after that. The stories only got worse and try as he might, Sideswipe could not bring himself to smile anymore.

But the worst part, the very worst, was that no one seemed to notice. Or maybe they didn't care. The purpose of war, after all, was to kill the other guy and after the first ten vorns, it was hard to find _anyone_ smiling. So really, it was nothing out of the ordinary. The only one who seemed to realize what had happened was the Prime himself; he was a busy guy, however, and there was little he could do except limit Sideswipe's time in the brig. It was all done behind his officers' backs, of course, and Sideswipe _was_ grateful. But it didn't help. Nothing helped. Nothing _would_ help the awful void inside him where his brother used to be.

And then they'd found him—_Sunny_—lying in a crater in a puddle of his own fluids. Most of his armor was gone and his innards were lying strewn over the ground. He was barely online. Sideswipe had never seen his brother in such bad shape. And Sunny, who was still somehow aware enough to sense that _someone _was standing over him, had looked up and his optics met Sideswipe's. He'd just stared. Hadn't said a word. Just stared for the nano-klik before his fuel pump stuttered, coughed, and fell silent and Sunny's eyes had dimmed as he slipped into stasis-lock.

Sideswipe had never been so happy to see another mech in his life.

That elation soon died as it became apparent just how damaged Sunstreaker really was. It wasn't just the physical wounds; Ratchet had patched Sunny up without a hitch. It was after that, when they'd tried to get him to mingle, that Sideswipe began to first suspect that his brother wasn't all right. Something in Sunstreaker had changed.

No, Sideswipe hadn't expected the Autobots to welcome his brother with open arms. There were too many who had lost friends to him, too many who had suffered because of Sunny's actions. What he didn't expect was the level of hostility Sunstreaker had shown against everyone. Even _him_.

It was no surprise, then, that something had happened. And Sideswipe could only hope that the information he had come across had gotten no further because if it had, then there was nothing he could do.

That was how he found himself hunkered behind some rubble in the southern district of the Tagon heights, staring at his pulse rifle and listening for the scuffling of an approaching 'bot.

Sideswipe, by nature, was an easy-going mech. He liked to smile, liked to get a laugh out of others. He liked high grade. He liked winning. He especially liked the thrill of charging head-long into a cluster of surprised Decepticons and bashing their heads together. Throughout Sideswipe's long and colorful career in the slums of Kaon, he had seen gruesome things. But, being the mech he was, he had taken it in stride, cracked a joke, and silently vowed that such a thing would never happen to him, that he himself would never fall so far.

Until now.

_He would __**not**_ _lose Sunny again_.

Somewhere amongst the debris something crunched and Sideswipe tensed, audios strained, rerouting additional power to his optics. For a long moment there was silence. Then a hiss, hydraulics, and a figure peered around the last standing wall of a building just down the road. Sideswipe felt his cables draw taut.

Dropshaft.

The small green mech stood still for a long moment, the side of his head the only exposed part of him. Sideswipe felt the faint tingle as the smaller bot's scans drifted over his frame. The other Autobot tensed for just a moment, before relaxing and stepping out into the pockmarked street.

"Oh, Primus, you scared me," Dropshaft said. "What are you doing hiding back there?"

He took a few steps towards the mound of rubble and in the dim light, Sideswipe could see his smile start to go crooked.

"Cliffjumper?" Dropshaft said.

Then Sideswipe stood and Dropshaft's optic shutters drew back. He knew in the next instant the 'bot would radio headquarters and he could not have that.

"Sorry," he said and raised his rifle.

* * *

Hopefully everyone had a decent Gluttony Day. Thank you **cmdrtekk**, **Fanatical-Chick**, **Elita One**, and **Thing With No Talent** for their reviews. Also, thank you to those who added this story to their favorites and alerts. Logging on and seeing that I have reviews is like freaking Christmas.


	5. On Vacation

**5. On Vacation**

_Forwards Time Skip - Autobot Base, Sector K-4820-4_

"I hate you."

From the adjacent cell, Sideswipe smiled and eased back.

"I really do. This is all your fault. If it wasn't for your glitched logic-processors none of this would have happened."

Sunny had been going on like that for the last two joors and his voice had started to pitch up into that irritating whine of his. To Sideswipe, who hadn't heard that since the war began, it was a welcomed sound.

"Why do you always do stupid things? And _why_ do you always drag _me_ into it?"

Sideswipe let his optics power down as he wiggled, making himself as comfortable as possible.

"Is this your hobby? Do you like to play 'Piss Off Sunstreaker?' Because it's _working_."

His systems were starting to cycle off and cool as unnecessary programs and servos shut down.

"You fried your processor, didn't you? I _knew_ I should have let you slag yourself. At least then _I_ wouldn't get tangled up in your glitched-out idea of 'fun'."

Sideswipe crossed his feet and the hydraulics in his legs hissed. He crossed his arms, too, tucking his hands in against his chassis. Right behind him, Sunstreaker kicked the wall separating their cells.

"I hope you know that I'm going to beat the bolts out of your stupid head when we get out of here."

He knew it. He was counting on it.

"I swear someone crossed your wires on the assembly line."

The thumps and bangs of Sunny's impressive tantrum were getting quieter as he started to calm down. His closeness helped to ease the ache in Sideswipe's chest, though these orns it was never completely gone. But sitting there, listening to Sunny rant and rave, and he could almost forget about the fighting going on above. No doubt Prowl would be down there soon enough to bail them out early _again_. They _were_ the best fighters on base; brig or no brig, the war continued. For now, though…

"You're an idiot."

It was nice to sit back and relax. Sunny had pretty much stopped moving by that point and Sideswipe could picture him mirroring his position, arms and legs tucked in, features beginning to relax in a way that Sideswipe rarely saw.

Sunstreaker huffed one last time and then, so quietly that Sideswipe almost didn't catch it, he said, "Thanks."

Sideswipe grinned and the two fell silent.

* * *

Many thanks to **Exie** and **Jakera** (hi Jakera!) for their reviews last chapter. I also want to thank **Litahatchee** (and, unofficially, Hearts of Eternity) for letting me use some of her concepts--spark-bond-type-thing between siblings--and for being really nice and letting me bug her over Thanksgiving. Thank you!


	6. Horny

Okay, I'd like to post a warning here that this is the first time I've ever written something like this. So please, for the love of god, let me know if it's bad so I can fix it. The data-port-thing on the back of the head comes from Litahatchee and I use it with her permission.

* * *

**6. Horny**

_Backwards Time Skip - Cybertron_

Sideswipe wasn't quite sure when or how he got to the femme's quarters. She was currently arching against him and letting out a low moan that made his relays tingle. He had her pressed up against the wall and both her legs were wrapped around his frame. He was pretty sure that things shouldn't be so fuzzy. His optics didn't seem to be working very well and he was having a little trouble staying upright.

The femme slid her smaller hand into a gap between his torso plating and her delicate fingers traced along a clump of wires. He couldn't stop the moan that broke away from his vocalizer. She smirked and leaned in and started to play with the exposed cables around his neck and he had to bite back a hiss.

It was a slow torture; the femme obviously knew what she was doing. Any other time he'd be enjoying himself, but then his spark throbbed in his chassis and he almost jumped. It was pleasurable. It should be. It was also incredibly painful and the next thing he knew, he was bent double over her with his forehead resting against the wall.

"Wow. You're a sensitive one," the femme said as her legs slid down from his waist. Her hands dragged down and caught his own and then she pulled him away from the wall, leading him over to her recharging berth.

He stumbled a little but the femme mistook his cursing and laughed.

His knees caught the low edge of the berth and she pushed on his chassis. He allowed himself to fall back. She started to climb up his frame, eventually settling on straddling his hips. For a long moment, she just sat there, looking at him. It was hard to see with his vision going weird, but he was pretty sure that she smiled at him.

"You know, a lot of us have been watching you," she said. She reached up, her fingers ghosting down his front. "But you didn't seem very interested in anyone."

He tried to formulate a response and ended up grunting, reaching up and to run his larger fingers down her side and hope she didn't notice his incoherency.

"We were starting to think you weren't into it. That you might have someone _special_."

He knew that there was a question in there somewhere, but for the life of him, he couldn't find it so he said, "Guess not."

His spark gave off another low throb and this time he flinched. This time, the femme noticed. Her features twisted into a frown and she said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, trying to ignore the harshness in his vocalizer. "Just… just a little…"

She lifted her optic-ridges. "Been a while?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that would do it," she said and leaned in on her elbows. She brought her knees up and he could hear the quiet scraping of their armor sliding together.

"You sure you're up for this?" the femme—Stardust?—said.

He wasn't. The little voice in the back of his mind that said that this was a very bad idea had not shut up since the two left the rec. room. He knew he was over-charged. He knew this femme—or was it Starshine?—was actually very nice and he didn't want to hurt her. He also knew that he was tired of being alone, of feeling like cold slag, and that if he didn't do something about it soon he was pretty sure it was going to kill him. So he grinned and trailed his fingers up her back to the access panel located where her helm met her spinal column.

She grinned too as she leaned far forward, enough to slide her arm around his neck to his own port. He heard the soft _snickt_ as her hand reformed into the interface jack. She looked at him expectantly so he followed suit and lined himself up. And then they plugged in.

The last sensation he had before their systems merged was that something was missing. Some_one_ was missing. And a deep feeling of distress welled up within him.

* * *

HOSHIT THE REVIEWS. You guys freaking _rock_. I want to thank the repeat reviewers, **Sunstreaker**, **cmdrtekk**, **Elita One**, **Exie**, and **Thing With No Talent** (whose own story, _Forged in Hell_ sorta blows mine out of the water). Also, New People! **blood shifter **and **pax-athena**. If I could give you all cake, I totally would.


	7. Transforming

**7. Transforming**

_Backwards Time Skip - Cybertron_**  
**

Purple. It clashes horribly with his own coloring. Sunstreaker reaches up and scratches at the new decal, all sharp points and slanted lines. They really _should_ come up with something better. He's already half-turned and opened his mouth to say so when he catches himself. The mech standing next to him, a short, bulky model with over-sized shoulder brackets who is _not_ Sideswipe, looks up and lifts and optic-ridge.

"What're you looking at?" he says.

Sunstreaker chuffs and looks away.

_Stupid Sideswipe_.

He'd come around. He _had_ to. Only four orns and Sunstreaker can feel the link between them starting to strain. It's not bad now, but the longer they're apart, the worse it will get and Sunstreaker's discomfort will be mirrored by his twin.

_He'll come around_.

The transport lurches beneath him and he tightens his hold on the cable ring attached to the wall. It doesn't help much. His unit is packed in so tight that it's impossible to even sit down. He can feel his fellow Decepticons moving around him. With that many mechs crammed into such a small space it didn't take long for the temperature to rise to uncomfortable levels. Half the mechs on board are already running coolant fans.

Sideswipe is a fool. The Autobots stand no chance against Megatron and his new Decepticon army. They are sentimental and weak. They have no taste for battle, for glory. His errant twin has no business being with such lesser creatures. He's better, made for better than that, even if he _is_ a giant slag-head with a stupid grin.

_He'll come around_.

According to his chronometer they've been in the air for eight breems. The transport rocks again and Sunstreaker is mashed against the wall as something large falls against him.

"Watch it!" he snarls and lashes out. His fist connects with something, knocking the weight off of him. He hears a surprised grunt but he's too busy twisting around to inspect the damage to see who makes it. He hisses a little when he finds the small scrape across his left shoulder. It will take at least half of an orn to fill in. "Clumsy slag-sucker."

He hears a rumbling whine and suddenly the other Decepticons are pressing themselves against each other, away from him, leaving a very small open space.

Sunstreaker turns and sees why.

The other mech must have been some sort of heavy-transport worker because he stands almost an entire metra taller than Sunstreaker and about twice as wide.

"You want to repeat that, _mini-bot_?" he says and Sunstreaker can feel the vibration of his vocalizer through his chassis.

"I said to watch it you ugly pile of scrap," he says

The larger Decepticon rumbles, shifting his bulk in closer. "You got corroded processors or something? Because that sounds a lot like a deactivation request to me."

Sunstreaker knows that any drone with a functioning logic chip can see that the hulking monstrosity stands no chance. He's got too much mass. He'll be slow and all that thick armor still leaves open spots around the joints. It has to, otherwise the mech wouldn't be able to move.

He's nothing if not observant to details.

"Why don't you go back and wait with the rest of these worthless trash. You're outmatched," he says.

The Decepticon's optic-covers lower. The fool is going to do something stupid.

"You know, I don't think we really need you around, so just hold still while I—"

And the bigger Decepticon lunges.

Of course, by that point Sunstreaker has already taken a step back and turned and that over-sized arm shoots past, blunted fingers closing on empty air. The Decepticon wastes no time and sweeps his arm towards him, probably intending to pin him against the crowd, but Sunstreaker reaches out and hauls himself up, engaging his wrist blades.

The armor _is_ thin at the joints and the Decepticon howls when Sunstreaker slips his blades into the seam at the elbow and twists. But then he starts to thrash and Sunstreaker finds himself flying through the air and smashing into the roof. He falls, his left shoulder takes the brunt of it. He grunts and picks himself up and starts to turn to really do some damage when something else hits him hard and slams him against the deck.

_What?!_

But it isn't the monstrosity pinning him down. It's another mech, this one a deep, navy blue.

"Stop," the Decepticon says.

"The frag I will! Get off, you—"

Sunstreaker's next sentence is cut off when the arm closest to his head shifts back and a bright white column of a burning magnesium blade pops out.

"I said 'stop'."

Sunstreaker can feel the heat of that blade on the side of his face. If the blue mech wants to, he can cut straight through Sunstreaker's body in the time it takes to stand. So he does something he rarely does and obeys.

The blue mech waits a moment, orange eyes staring, before the blade dissolves and his fingers slide back into place. He stands, offering Sunstreaker a hand, but Sunstreaker just glares and picks himself up. The blue mech shrugs and turns to where the over-sized monster who started the whole thing is standing, nursing his leaking arm.

"Estimated arrival time is one breem. Save your… _anticipation_ until then."

The blue mech eyes both of them for a moment longer before turning and slipping back into the throng of spectators.

_Slag face_, Sunstreaker thinks and fingers the new dent on his back. Bulky is still glaring at him and Sunstreaker sneers and deliberately turns away.

The whole transport is shaking now and the vibrations of the engine change pitch to a low thrum. He can hear the _thoomp! thoomp!_ of artillery fire outside. This is it. His first actual battle as a Decepticon soldier. For a small moment he wonders if he'll see Sideswipe out there and what he'll say if he does. He considers opening a channel to him.

_Not until that fragger comes back and apologizes_.

His gimbals are reading a fast drop in elevation. Around him, the air is buzzing and arms and shoulders are shifting as weaponry comes online. Sunstreaker brings up his new, shoulder-mounted missile launchers.

Lower… lower. New sounds, higher-pitched screeches and a low cacophony of what he thinks might be vocalizers, mechs screaming. He hopes that Sideswipe _isn't_ down there. He looks down to the still-gleaming purple decal. It really is a bad color. Someone ought to redesign the thing.

_Sideswipe…_

But Sideswipe isn't there and Sunstreaker turns to face the transport doors as they jolt to a landing.

* * *

**Sunstreaker**, **Elita One**, **blood shifter**, and **Thing With No Talent** all get internet cake! I hope this chapter clears up the "Where's Sunstreaker? Is he dead?" questions.


	8. Excited

**8. Excited**

_Backwards Time Skip - Kaon, Cybertron_

The air stunk of spilled energon. Down below on the first floor, two mechs faced off, both of them leaking, both of them limping from earlier wounds. Sideswipe sat in the second tier trying not to grimace as the mechs behind him kicked the ground and yelled. One of the fighters lunged in, swiping at his opponent with a glowing vibro-ax. The second fighter took a step to the side, spun around, and brought the heel of his own weapon—a large hammer—against Ax-Mech's helm. Ax stumbled and fell to his knees just before he could topple out of the ring. Hammer was right behind him and Ax had to drop and roll across the debris-ridden floor, narrowly avoiding getting his face crunched in.

Down below, at the railing, Sunstreaker was shouting. Sideswipe had never seen him so worked-up before. Pleased, yes; happy, yes; smug, slag yes. But never had he seen his twin acting with such wild abandon. Sunny was on his feet with both arms raised, fists clenched, screaming at his maximum capacity.

Sideswipe was baffled.

Ax got to his feet. Hammer charged forward, weapon raised high. Sideswipe could see Ax tense in preparation to gut his opponent. Sunstreaker could see it too; he lowered his arms and clutched the railing and leaned out so far Sideswipe was afraid for a moment that he would slip over the edge. At the last nano-klik Hammer folded in on himself. Ax swung, the glowing blade just missing Hammer's backside. Hammer rolled and came up right behind his opponent. Ax had no chance. Even before he could raise his arm to defend himself, Hammer's hammer smashed into his midsection. Small pieces and energon spattered the crowd. Ax staggered and Hammer struck again, the thick metal catching Ax on the side of the head so hard it spun the mech almost completely around. Ax's weapon fell from lifeless fingers as he crashed to the floor in a pool of his own fluids.

The crowd roared. Sunstreaker went crazy, all but hopping up onto the railing and waving his arms over his head. Hammer walked over to Ax, nudged the limp carcass with his foot, and then raised his weapon and slowly pivoted.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!" the crowd chanted and Sideswipe could hear Sunny's voice above the others.

Hammer bowed.

"Yeah!" Sunny crowed.

After it was over and the drones set out to clear the dead parts away, Sunny came striding up the benches and plopped down next to Sideswipe.

"That was _amazing_!" he said, fingers hooking into claws, a huge grin on his face.

"Nnn," Sideswipe said.

"I mean, I thought for sure that Maul was going to take down 'Crusher but then he gets up and," at which point Sunny lost all articulation and fell to full-body gestures and sound effects. Sideswipe watched him mime the killing chop and felt a twinge of unease.

"Yeah," he said.

"You think I could do that? _I_ think I could do that."

"Sure thing," Sideswipe said, standing up. Sunstreaker rose to follow him as he made his way towards the aisle.

"It's not like it's hard. And I _know_ how to take care of myself."

"Uh huh," Sideswipe said.

"I heard they're going to have tryouts soon."

Sideswipe had only been paying half-attention to Sunstreaker's excited rambling, but that sentence stopped him cold and he turned on the stairs.

"What?" he said.

In the dim lighting, Sunny's optics glowed a bright, pale blue.

"Next quarter. They haven't set a date yet, but I've heard there's going to be some sort of recruitment meeting," Sunny said. Sideswipe frowned. Sunstreaker, misinterpreting the gesture, said, "Oh, come on. I wasn't going to leave you behind."

He pushed past him and continued his descent down to street-level.

"Yeah. Sure," Sideswipe said.

Sunny kept going, oblivious to his brother's hesitation. Sideswipe watched him for a moment, unable to shake the cold feeling around his spark and then shook his head and started after him.

* * *

Just in case anyone reading this doesn't know the IDW-verse, Megatron started off fighting in illegal gladiator rings. Using this, he launched what would become the Decepticon army. Thank you so much **Sunstreaker, Elita One**, and **blood shifter** for your continued reviews. I can't say how much I appreciate it. And to **Thing With No Talent**, that's a damn good insight and helped fix something that's been bothering me. Thanks.


	9. Book Reading

**9. Book Reading**

_Forwards Time Skip - Ark 22_

Sunstreaker almost doesn't react fast enough. There's no one else around and he has let his guard down. He doesn't even hear the footfalls of the approaching mech. He _does_ hear the hiss of an opening door, however, and he jumps, nearly falling off the back of the berth. He catches himself and looks up just in time to see the red form of Ironhide shuffling in. He's torn for a moment between standing up and demanding to know what the 'bot is doing there or simply ducking down and hoping he isn't seen. And then he spots the datapad lying on the stand next to him.

"Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker glances up from the datapad.

"What are you doing here?" Ironhide asks. He's standing in the doorway looking a little unsure of himself.

"What's it look like?" Sunstreaker says, doing his best to sound annoyed—which he is, just not for the right reason.

Ironhide doesn't reply at first. He's still looking around as if expecting a Decepticon to leap out of the shadows.

"I never figured you for a reading type," he finally says.

"Good for you."

Sunstreaker tries to casually lean back against the equipment stand but it shifts and one of Ratchet's tools clatters to the floor. Sunstreaker curses to himself and places the datapad on the berth and stoops down to pick the clamp up. When he stands back up Ironhide is looking at him with a strange expression.

"Any particular reason you come to the med bay to read?" the officer asks. His optics drift down to the still form of the red and black mech lying on the berth right behind Sunstreaker.

"Only quiet place," Sunstreaker says. "Fragging Tracks and those mini-freaks took up the simulators and Jazz is hogging the rec. room."

"Uh huh."

Sunstreaker wonders how long they'll put him in the brig for shooting a senior officer. Probably a while.

Ironhide shifts a little and then squares his shoulders. "You haven't seen Ratchet in here, have you?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, if you do could you tell him that Prowl's trying to get a hold of him?"

"Whatever."

Ironhide glances down one last time. Sunstreaker forces himself to stay still and not bristle; he goes back to staring at the datapad. Then the old mech nods once and the doors hiss open.

"Oh, and Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker looks up.

"I hear it helps if you turn the datapad on," Ironhide says and walks out.

* * *

Hells bells. They went and dorked with the categories. (And here I was hoping to cash in on the surge of interest after the new movie came out.) Ah, tragedy. Anyway.

**Sunstreaker**: Glad you like it. I think that when Sunstreaker _is_ in a good mood (as rarely as that happens) he gets a bigger, well, "high" I guess, than Sideswipe.

**cmdrtekk**: Thank you!

**Elita One**: _Yeah_ he was.

**blood shifter**: There were a lot of gladiator fights, and Megatron wasn't in every, single one. Besides, this isn't the first fight they (or, at least, Sunstreaker) have been to.

**Thing With No Talent**: I was kind of wondering if I was pushing Sunstreaker's character a little too far, but everyone seemed to find it okay. Woot for good cringing! You really did help. I was reading your review and mulling over it and it was like, EPIPHANY. But that comes later.

**Trapped in Reality**: I've been worried about that. It's not in chronological order (for the most part) and I've been trying to make it as coherent as possible. But I've rearranged some later chapters so they make more sense (since they tie-in to each other). I too love the twins (you know, in case that wasn't _blatantly_ obvious). Thanks for the compliments; they're a real treat.

You guys are awesome!


	10. Turned On

This chapter takes place simultaneously with chapter 6.

* * *

**10. Turned On**

_Backwards Time Skip - Altihex, Cybertron_

Sunstreaker feels like he's going to die.

It's too late to make a hasty exit. He'd have to slide through the mass of bodies just to get to the door and he's not sure that he could make it down the hallway to his quarters even if he got that far. Besides, he's unable to move without an electric shock racing through his frame that makes him want to slam his face against the table and _scream_. So he sits as still as he can and stares at a point on the far wall.

He knows exactly what is happening, knows exactly who to blame. But the responsible party is not within throttling range.

It's taking everything in him not to moan. The bond strain is neither painful nor pleasant but somewhere in between. Mostly, it's just intense.

Someone brushes by; the small contact lights up his epidural sensors and he sputters. But the rec. room is loud and the 'con doesn't even notice. Sunstreaker cuts power to his optics and wonders if anyone would stop him if he were to open his own energon lines right there.

Probably. No one wants to take time out of a raging party to scrape a dying mech up off the floor.

It's getting worse. He can almost feel phantom sensations ghosting down his chest. Can almost hear a voice; light, melodic. Dusty blue armor. A quiet scrape and the dim sensation of a small limb sliding up his leg and without knowing it, he sits up just a little straighter.

The boisterous noise of the room is a physical entity, dipping into seams and caressing his face. His spark burns. He wants nothing more than to reach in and rip it out.

Someone stumbles; he hears the noise just moments before an elbow grazes his helm. There's no damage, not even a scrape, but he yelps anyway and optics snap on. He whirls and snarls, "Don't _touch_ me!"

The 'con, Breakdown, straightens and chuffs at him. "Aw, don't worry about it Sunshine! No harm done!"

Sunstreaker wants to say, "Don't call me that, slag-sucker," but before he can open his mouth he's hit by a wall of sensation. Two minds, one familiar and one not, slam into his own. Electricity crackles along is frame. He barks something, but there are no words, it comes out as noise. Images, memories, an unfamiliar name—Starburst? Someone is screaming. And someone is crying out. It's wrong. It shouldn't… this should be… and an overwhelming sense of guilt and astonishment.

"What the slag is the matter with you?"

A hand on his shoulder, pushing back. He lifts his head. Breakdown is still standing there and he's not alone. The closest 'cons have frozen and are staring at him, looking a little weirded out. The image blurs for a moment and he's beneath an unfamiliar ceiling. Warm metal beneath him, warm metal above him only that one is moving. The rec. room comes back into focus.

His hands are shaking. His whole _frame_ is shaking. Everyone is staring at him and he feels the panic starting to kick in. They're going to figure it out. They'll know about Sideswipe. No one spontaneously overloads in the middle of a crowded room. He has to do something and fast.

Another jolt of sensation and with it comes voices, though it's a confused babble to Sunstreaker. Breakdown's hand is still on his shoulder. Sunstreaker can feel the light thrum of the other 'con's electrical field. His intakes are catching, pump irregular. The energy crackle is building, nearing its peak. And everyone is staring. Breakdown starts to back away, his hand starts to lift. Sunstreaker realizes what he needs to do.

"I said don't touch me!" he shouts, hoping no one hears the hysterical note in his vocalizer. He lunges forward, fingers curled, and nails the other 'con right in the face. Even before he can fall back Sunstreaker is whirling around to aim a vicious kick to the closest 'con. He catches him right above the knee and the mech starts to go down.

Building static. His entire frame is becoming sensitized; he can _feel_ the air around him. The familiar presence sputters and writhes and Sunstreaker almost loses his ability to stand.

He feels the shift in the air right before a fist connects with the side of his face. He stumbles, reaches around, but another set of hands grabs him from behind and when he looks up it's to see a foot heading towards his face.

The energy field around him snaps. His vision goes white as his world explodes around him and he thinks he screams. And then there's a terrible pain and—

* * *

Again, thank you all for your reviews. They're very helpful. If there's anything that you guys spot that could make this one not suck, please let me know.

**blood shifter**: Yeah. I think own more books than anything else. By a lot.

**Okami-chan**: Again with the time line. Hrm. Well, there are a few key chapters coming up and I've modified the order of some of them to make it clearer. I hope it isn't _too_ confusing. All the other 28's that I read were chronologically wonky. But I'm trying to remedy that. Thanks for the review!

**Trapped in Reality**: I thought so. I laughed when I wrote it (but that's just because I'm the biggest dork I know).

**Thing With No Talent**: You know, you're like the staple of my reviews. Glad you got it (he probably _was_). And thank you so much for reviewing!

I send you all internet cake!


	11. Jealous

**11. Jealous**

_Backwards Time Skip - Cybertron_

Sideswipe hated the mini-bots. All five of them had clustered around one of the tables, a stack of high-grade in the middle, and sat grinning and chatting and joking around, completely oblivious to the 'bots shuffling in to refuel. They were the most useless mechs on base. Almost every time one of them went out on a mission he came back scrapped to the pit and all the others would take turns hovering over his berth while the rest camped outside the med bay. Sideswipe had tripped over them more than once, sprawled out like that on the floor. But they were at their most irritating when they were all together, gathered in some garish little group, talking fast with their little vocalizers. It made Sideswipe want to pick up his table and throw it at them.

Over in the corner, Cliffjumper started laughing and shoved Dropshaft. The smaller green mech stumbled and his high grade sloshed out and down his thin chassis. That sent the rest of the group into a giggle-fit and Sideswipe almost purged his tanks right then.

_Slag-suckers_, he thought.

He turned away and brought his own cube up. The room was about half-full. Several of the 'bots still showed the fresh weld lines where Ratchet and First Aid had patched them up. It had been a hard battle. Most of those present were talking in low tones, if at all. Sideswipe counted three who, like him, sat by themselves nursing a cube or four; he doubted their silence was for the same reason as his own, however.

The link strain was acting up again. It had been getting worse for the last quarter, worse than it had ever been before. He knew it was worrying the medics. They'd offered to do what they could but Sideswipe had refused; he doubted Sunny would have the same option. It was the only thing they shared anymore and Sideswipe wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him.

Windcharger said something—Sideswipe didn't catch what—and pointed at Cliffjumper who responded by pegging him in the head with an empty cube. Sideswipe still had about a third of a cube left and wondered whether he could manage to flood his intakes with it.

"They're in a good mood."

He turned to see Leadfoot sliding into the seat next to him.

"Ngh," he said, hoping the 'bot would take the hint and leave him the frag alone.

"Hey, maybe we should go over there too, huh?" Leadfoot said.

"Yeah. How about _not_."

Leadfoot lifted a hand and thumped Sideswipe on the shoulder. "Oh come on, Sideswipe. You need to lighten up."

Sideswipe looked down at the hand on his shoulder and then up at Leadfoot. He stared. Leadfoot shifted a little and then removed the offending appendage.

"Listen," Sideswipe said. "If I wanted company, I would have asked for it."

For a long moment, the other 'bot just sat there, giving Sideswipe one of those pitying looks that made him want to punch the mech in the face.

"If you keep acting like such a fragger, you're always gonna be alone," he said.

Sideswipe almost started laughing. Instead he said, "Thanks, _Ratchet_," and took another gulp of the fuel. He went back to staring at the mini-bots. A few nano-kliks later and he heard the sound of Leadfoot's retreating footsteps.

_Fragger_.

Two of the mini-freaks had cuddled up next to each other. It was obvious by the way they weren't-quite-touching that there was something going on between them. Sideswipe started wishing the alarms would go off just so he'd have an excuse to break something. Like a Decepticon. That would be nice. But he knew that they would be too busy tending to their own wounded to pull something so soon. He wondered what Sunny was doing…

Sideswipe stood up. It was time to head down to the training grounds and see if he couldn't get himself knocked offline before he did something he might regret later.

_Stupid mini-bots_.

* * *

Yay for reviews!

**Sunstreaker**: Glad you liked it. I wasn't sure if it would come off as weird or not.

**P.A.W.07**: Well, even if they didn't, it didn't helping the reputation he's building.

**Trapped in Reality**: Really? I'd read that. I don't think there _is_ much official background on them. A lot is made up (which is why it's fun to write with them). I'm pretty sure I ran into something similar before, just can't remember where. But I'm not sure if that one was long-distance.

**blood shifter**: Yeah, they do know something is wrong with him. They just don't know what.

**Thing With No Talent**: Unless Sunstreaker does it first.

Next chapter: Dancing.


	12. Dancing

Like a fat man squeezing down a chimney, I come bearing gifts! Okay, so not really. It's just an update. Happy Freaking Holidays!

* * *

**12. Dancing**

_Forwards Time Skip - Cybertron_

It was another boring sentry shift right up to the point when a Decepticon Seeker literally popped out of thin air and opened fire. Sideswipe and Switchgear threw themselves down as plasma fire exploded around them, punching right through the thin walls and ceiling of the security tower. Then the Seeker was screaming past and a moment later something big went _boom!_

Sideswipe waited a moment to lift his head and peer through one of the holes blasted through the walls. Over on the other side of camp he saw a dissipating white cloud of lightening, saw the Seeker rolling away towards the north, and started swearing.

"What? What is it?" Switchgear said.

"Slag-face took down one of the generators."

"What?!"

The generators were the only things keeping the massive force field up and running, keeping the equally massive Decepticon hordes from opening up with the heavy artillery and swarming them. The 'field could operate with just two of its generators for a little while—long enough to get a third and fourth hooked up, anyway—but once the third one went down…

Another billowing cloud erupted as the Seeker nailed the second one.

"_Slag!_"

Sideswipe saw the slag-sucker turning, coming around, heading straight towards them.

"Switch, get up on that cannon and keep that flying pile of scrap away from us," he said.

Switchgear had already started towards the huge weapon. It had been designed with one thing in mind: taking down Fliers. The gunner sat perched on a seat with a set of triggers on each side—one for each of the double barrel cannons—and a target display in front. The cannon barrels themselves were almost two-and-a-half metras long and so wide that Sideswipe couldn't fit his arms around one of them. They fired a blast of high-density plasma that could eat right through even the toughest armor and, at full power, the gunner could keep up a steady barrage of two shots a nano-klick for up to three breems.

"Something's wrong."

Sideswipe felt something inside him sink and turned from his makeshift peephole just in time to see Switchgear kick the weapon.

"What?" he said.

"It's not working!" Switch said. Then the mech scrambled off and ducked down behind the weapon. A moment later and Switch started uttering the foulest curses Sideswipe had ever heard, ending with "… glitching bucket-humper cut through the power cord!"

_Ah __**slag**_.

"You can't fix it?" he said.

"Not unless you want to be the conduit," Switchgear said.

The Decepticon was almost on top of them. The whine of his engines had grown to a deafening scream. In just a few nano-klicks, he'd pass right beneath them and blow up the third generator and then they would all die.

"Our weapons aren't going to be enough, are they?" Switch said.

"Nope."

"I _hate_ Seekers. So, what? We just—hey! Where—"

There was no Light of Inspiration, no Epiphany. When later asked what, exactly, had gone through his processor, Sideswipe answered honestly: he just wanted to stop the Seeker.

"What the slag are you doing?!"

So Sideswipe vaulted over the short railing of the guard tower and started to fall. His timing was perfect. He saw a flash of silver and pale blue and then he hit hard, bounced twice, and rolled along until finally catching himself right before he tumbled off.

The Decepticon jerked and let out a surprised, "What the _slag_?"

"Hi," Sideswipe said and twisted around to hook his legs in a sort of reverse straddle of the Seeker's primary stabilizer fin.

"What are you doing?" the Decepticon said. He sounded baffled rather than angry, which Sideswipe couldn't blame him for. _He'd_ never seen someone leap onto the back of an airborne Flier before and doubted that the 'con had either.

He didn't give the Seeker time to think about it.

"This," he said and shifted his arm and punched through the back armor, down into the engine.

"Agh!"

Sideswipe kept right at it, reaching in and tearing at the plating, ignoring the hot plasma licking around his fingers. The Decepticon dropped a little and shuddered. The next thing Sideswipe knew, his gyros went wonky and the world started to spin, blurring the sky and the ground and the explosions and the anti-Seeker fire tracing towards them all together. He had to pull his arm back to clutch at the fin as the slagger whirled through the air.

"Ah! Get off, get _off_ you glitching, malfunctioning pile of scrap!" the 'con screeched.

Any witty comeback Sideswipe might have come up with was lost as his legs lost their purchase and were ripped out behind him. He dug his fingers in, felt the metal start to bend.

_Slaggit, slaggit, **slaggit**!_

The fin started to give. Any moment, it would rip free and he would go plummeting to the ground and the Seeker would finish his mission and Sideswipe could _not let that happen_.

The engine exhaust was an arm's reach to his right. So he brought out his pulse rifle and jammed it between the two flaps.

"Hey, bolt-face," he said. "Eat this!"

And Sideswipe started shooting.

The Seeker shrieked as something inside blew up. Sideswipe barely got his hand away from the port before a ball of flame burst out; he felt it singe the side of his face. Then the Seeker twisted violently to the side. Sideswipe felt his fingers slip off, felt the wind hit him and drag him back as the 'con spiraled off, leaking smoke and fire. He looked up and saw the ground rushing down at him.

_Slag_, he thought. _Gonna need a better dismount._

_

* * *

_Not _technically_ dancing, but this is Sideswipe. Jet Judo counts. Thank you, my regular reviewers! You guys are what I look forward to when I'm stuck at work, so thanks for making my day!

**Trapped in Reality**: Glad you like it. Hope this wasn't disappointing.

**blood shifter**: Only those who need to do. And now it is Christmas, YAY!

**cmdrtekk**: Thank you!

**Thing With No Talent**: I typically do, too. They're such a great duo. But I, personally, haven't seen many stories where they're separated and I wanted to explore that. The majority of the upcoming chapters do have both of them in there, however.

Next chapter: Caring


	13. Caring

**13. Caring**

_Forwards Time Skip - Cybertron_

Sunstreaker knows it's bad this time. The evidence is right there, cranial unit opened up and shimmering in a heat-haze. He has known Sideswipe his entire existence and in all that time, he's not sure he's ever seen his twin so scrapped.

"Temperature at 35 klax and rising." The low monotone of a medical drone. The red and white medic ignores it and reaches for the next set of energon clamps. The med bay is full and still more wounded are trickling in. Sunstreaker is aware that he isn't wanted there; the Autobots hate him and for good reason. He has personally fragged at least a quarter of them. The 'bot next to Sideswipe had to have an entire arm and chassis rebuilt after Sunstreaker tore it off and beat him with it. He can still see the faint weld lines. That mech's surviving buddies are hovering over him and Sunstreaker is sure that if the medic wasn't standing right there, they'd have tried to rip his spark out.

Sunstreaker ignores them.

"Come on," Ratchet says, buried up to the wrists in Sideswipe's innards. Sunstreaker dimly notes that his brother's energon leaves a rainbow sheen where it has splattered the 'bot's arms and chassis. "This should be working!"

Sideswipe's internals are starting to sputter. As the leaking fluid seeps through his chassis, it begins to pool around his air intakes and clog his main coolant pump. Like all Transformers, Sideswipe has a backup pumping system, but for some reason it isn't working and the medic has been unable to jump-start it. As the fans flood and stop working Sideswipe's internal temperature continues to rise and his cranial processors are overheating. He's already reached a critical threshold. Sideswipe is dying.

"Come _on_!"

It's stupid and it's dangerous, exposing himself like this in front of so many who would kill him. But Sunstreaker doesn't think about that. He can't. His entire world, all he has left is lying on that table and he will _not_ let that go.

He's already disengaging armor clamps and starting the emergency override programs before Ratchet realizes what he's doing. The medic's head snaps up, blue optics narrowed.

"Don't even think about it," he says.

Sunstreaker ignores him and continues, gears whirring and pistons sliding back. The front of his chassis plating swings away, exposing the lines around his own spark chamber. Internal warnings are easily silenced and even as Ratchet pulls his hands out to stop him, Sunstreaker is reaching into his own spark cavity and disengaging his pumping clamps. He's aware of the pain. More alarms start screeching and not just internally but he himself doesn't make a sound.

"What are you doing?!" Ratchet snaps, lunging forward and pulling the hissing tubes from Sunstreaker's fingers. He tries to stuff them back inside where they belong, but Sunstreaker is having none of that and grabs the medic's face with one hand.

"Our systems are identical," he says. "Save him."

"I am not going to kill one mech just to save another!" Ratchet says.

Sunstreaker wrenches the 'bot's head up and grabs the wrist of the hand holding his lines. "I have a backup. Work on _him_."

Sideswipe's monitor starts to wail. Sunstreaker can smell the acidic tang of burning wire. He knows Ratchet can smell it, too. For a moment, neither moves. Then the medic cycles his vents and eases back. Sunstreaker lets go of his face.

"Get another berth over here," the 'bot says to the drone. "And _you_," this to Sunstreaker, "_tell_ me the moment you start to overheat."

Sunstreaker says nothing. He climbs onto the berth when the drone arrives and positions himself so he's practically lying on top of his brother. The medic wastes no time, unhooking Sideswipe's own floundering systems and plugging Sunstreaker's in. Behind them the alarms continue to go off. This close and Sunstreaker can feel the heat rolling off his twin's frame, wafting across his face.

Somewhere during the procedure Ratchet reaches in and turns off Sunstreaker's relays, dulling the pain. Sunstreaker doesn't so much as move. The noise level in the med bay had dropped a little but he doesn't really notice it. All of his formidable sensors are focused on the sound of Sideswipe's systems.

They continue to gurgle. Heat is pouring into Sunstreaker's bared internals and he's starting to register an unhealthy rise in his own temperature. His backup remains off, however. He won't engage it, won't risk the drain in power. He's pretty sure Ratchet knows about it but the other mech doesn't say anything and the two are silent.

One breem.

Two.

And then something in Sideswipe coughs, lurches, and turns over. A moment later and the alarms shut off. Sideswipe gives off a massive blast of hot air as vents clear and the hovering medic relaxes just a little.

"Alright you," he says. "Engage that backup or I will."

Sunstreaker nods and lowers himself next to the cooling frame of his brother. If Ratchet sees his smile, he gives no indication.

* * *

Sweet. Hit the 50 reviews marker.

**Sunstreaker**: Jet Judo is awesome. I wish there were more fics with it.

**Elita One**: He did. Thanks for reviewing!

**blood shifter**: Yep, it was. And he did. Probably a little too much.

**Trapped in Reality**: Glad you liked it. To be honest, this was the only thing I could think of. And I wanted to write Jet Judo anyway, so I figured, "Meh. Why not?'

**cmdrtekk**: Oh! A technical review. I like those. Thanks!

**Thing With No Talent**: Unfortunately, I'm I'm not the first to use "bucket-humper" (can't remember where I saw it...). I always thought it'd be a desperation maneuver that Sideswipe came to like (too much). It is awful to write them apart. They don't take well to it.

Next up: On His Knees


	14. On His Knees

O.O See that? That is the visual representation of me opening my inbox and seeing the reviews and the subsequent brain aneurysm. _Dude_. Now I'm kinda scared to post this. On a happier note: Happy New Year!

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**14. On His Knees **

_Backwards time skip - Cybertron  
_

The call came over the frequencies right as he was about to shove the 'con's arm through his own optics. Sideswipe didn't even understand it at first. But then something about the wording, "It's… it's a Decepticon, sir. You might want to come over here" and something sparked in Sideswipe's processor. He dropped the arm, the groaning 'con completely forgotten, and turned to the north where the flashes of plasma fire still lit up the sky.

He knew that the main contingent of Megatron's forces were starting to fall back but there were still clashes as the advancing Autobots met pockets of resistance. It wouldn't be long before they managed to clear them, though, and by that point it had become a matter of mopping up the mess.

He didn't recognize the mech who'd made the call, but he did recognize the short, terse, "On my way."

Prowl.

Sideswipe wasn't quite sure why, but something about that felt _bad_. He ignited the recently installed jet-pack between his shoulders and kicked off, taking to the skies. He didn't go high, staying well below the Flier's ranges—much as he loved taking down the Decepticon Seekers, now was not the time. Even from that altitude he could see enough of the Tagon Heights.

The bustling manufacturing center had been reduced to smoldering ruins, most of the famous towers gone. The ones that hadn't caught fire had been blasted apart as one faction or the other took cover within only to have the enemy bring in the serious firepower. He couldn't see the western quadrant, where Megatron had sent his heavy bombers when it became apparent that he would not be able to take it. Better to destroy it than let the Autobot use it to make supplies, or so Sideswipe guessed. To the east, most of the structures still stood but the Decepticons were retreating in that direction. It, too, would end up as rubble. Prowl had been to the north so that was where Sideswipe flew.

* * *

It was underneath what used to be an overpass. A large crater, riddled with bodies, had been blown into the ground. The road itself, once a graceful arch, was lying in pieces, the jagged remains piercing the sky. A small group of Autobots had gathered around the far side of the crater and before Sideswipe landed, he could see the tension in their frames.

All Sideswipe saw at first was a body; just another mangled carcass among so many others. But then something cut through the strange buzzing in his processor and he saw the yellow.

The mech was almost unrecognizable. Half of his armor was slagged and Sideswipe could see swaths where it had melted into the inner circuitry. One leg was gone, the other crushed. The arms were intact, if a little singed, but with the gaping hole in his chest—it must have just missed the spark chamber—the mech would be unable to use them. The head, however… the mech's face had been ripped off, the inner gears exposed, processor hanging out. The optics, now totally bare, shifted and Sideswipe realized that the mech was _still online_.

It was the fins, he later decided. If it hadn't been for those stupid, oversized sensor arrays, he never would have realized… never recognized…

Sunny.

He felt something inside him twist and draw tight.

Sunny wasn't making a sound and Sideswipe could see that his brother's head was connected only by a column of wiring. His vocalizer was missing. The Autobots standing above—_Primus, it hurt to say it_—Sunny, were talking in low murmurs, gesturing down at the remains and then to the north.

_They're waiting for Prowl_.

He couldn't look away, though seeing Sunny like that hurt worse than anything ever had. He was still online. His optics were moving, just a small twitch, and Sideswipe knew that if he'd been able to, Sunstreaker would have been sneering.

_Sunny. It's Sunny. _

He should say something. Do something. Anything. But he found he couldn't move. Couldn't look away. Couldn't even say his brother's name or reach out to him. He just stood there, staring.

"Hey, Sides! Glad you could make it!"

Sideswipe glanced up to find the gathered 'bots looking at him. One of them—Brawn, he recognized—was waving him over. Sideswipe looked back down.

Sunny was staring at him. It lasted only a nano-klik. Just one brief moment and then those optics flickered, dimmed, and went out all together and Sideswipe felt part of his universe die.

"Sunny?" he said.

"...really need to wait for Prowl? I mean, it's not like anyone's going to care, right?"

"…could just say he up and offlined while we were waiting."

"…slagger. He deserves worse."

"…not gonna wait! Stubborn pit-spawn probably wouldn't just up and die on his own and I ain't letting him leave."

_That_ snapped Sideswipe out of his funk and he looked to the group on the far side of the crater. They'd bunched in closer. Their weapons were drawn and he could _see _the hostility rippling in the air above them.

They weren't calling Prowl to pick up a prisoner. They were calling Prowl to get an execution order. _They were going to kill Sunstreaker._

"No…"

Brawn brought up his pulse rifle and took aim.

Sideswipe moved, leaping into the crater and scrambling over to the other side, skirting his unmoving brother. Brawn glanced up, his optics a little surprised, and then he grinned.

"Hey, 'Sides, you wanna get in on this? There's plenty—"

Sideswipe's fist plowed into the mech's face. Something snapped and caved in. The 'bot went flying, hitting the ground and flipping aft over end before landing in a crumpled heap against one of the overpass support columns. Before he'd stopped bouncing Sideswipe brought every weapon system he had online and trained his cannon and pulse rifle on the 'bots to either side.

"Touch him I will kill _all_ of you," he said.

Silence for a nano-klik. And then everything went crazy.

"What the _slag_ is wrong with you?"

"Are you _glitched_?!"

His sensors went haywire as his fellow Autobot's targeted him with their own weapons.

"Back _off_," Sideswipe hissed, sinking into a low crouch.

"What the slag are you doing?" Cliffjumper said, shifting into Sideswipe's view. "You some kind of Decepticon sympathizer, Sideswipe?"

Sideswipe moved his right arm, lighting up Cliffjumper's face with the glare of his rifle.

"You want to say that again?" he said.

"Answer the fragging question! 'Cause I don't see one reason why you would take down one of your own for that pile of garbage down there unless—"

That did it. _Vorns_ of listening to the rec. room horror stories—his only way to get news about Sunstreaker—and Sideswipe snapped. Weapons forgotten, he reached over, grabbing the mech's rifle with one hand and plowed into him, knocking them both down. He landed on the smaller mech and started to hit him. But the little slagger lifted an arm and squeezed off a shot. The beam went wide, singing the epidural layer of his helm and Sideswipe grunted in pain. So he shifted the pylons in his arm, bringing the armor down to form reinforcing struts, and crushed the offending weapon and the hand holding it.

Cliffjumper screamed.

By that point the startled onlookers had sprung forward and Sideswipe felt hands clawing at his arms and back, trying to tear him off the flailing 'bot.

"Prowl, we've got a situation here!" someone said.

The closest mech to Sideswipe got an elbow to the face for his trouble and staggered away, cursing. Cliffjumper used the distraction to reach up and try to gouge out Sideswipe's optics, but the mech was a good head shorter and only managed to scrape at his mouth.

"No go, midget," Sideswipe said and slammed the 'bot's head into the ground. Several times. Until he stopped moving.

It was right about then that something big and red filled his vision and suddenly a terrific force hit him. It knocked his stabilizers off for a few nano-kliks and when he regained his senses, it was to find his face mashed against the ground with something heavy pinning him there.

"Let go!" he shouted. He tried to twist his hips to get some leverage, but the force holding him refused to budge and a moment later, Sideswipe felt a cold, crackling thing slide over one shoulder and then the other. And then Sideswipe lost all sensation in his body.

"No! _No_! Get these off! Get _off_!"

Ironhide, because that's who he realized was holding him, hoisted him upright, settling him on his knees.

Prowl stood before him, facing him but watching the others fuss over the oozing Cliffjumper. Slowly, face immobile, Prowl turned his head to look at Sideswipe. He didn't say anything for a moment. Just stood there, staring down while Sideswipe felt his energon boil.

"Autobot Sideswipe," Prowl said and his vocalizer was a complete monotone. Prowl was _pissed_. And Sideswipe didn't care.

"_Prowl_," he said.

"You are charged with a major infraction of Autobot Conduct Code 27.2.01 and 42.8.033."

Sideswipe wasn't listening. His body wouldn't respond to his commands thanks to the energon binders. All he got was a confusing mess of electronic jumble and scrambled relays. It felt like tingling from the neck down. But he could still move his head and had turned to watch as more mechs—_must have come with Prowl_—clustered around Sunny.

"Autobot Sideswipe—"

"Get away from him!" Sideswipe snarled and the new mechs looked up, one of them with a scanner frozen over Sunny's head.

Nobody said anything and Prowl turned to look. The mech who'd scanned Sunstreaker looked startled and then stood up and stepped back.

"Is he damaged?" Sideswipe heard Prowl ask.

From behind, Ironhide's low grumbling, "I don't think so. Not the way you're thinking."

He knew that they were talking about him. Some unseen gesture and then Prowl was moving away, now towards Sunny. Sideswipe felt his energon pumps falter as the Second in Command of the entire Autobot Army came to a stop on the lip of the crater. He said something to one of the new mechs who bent down and ran a sweep over Sunny. That mech stood back up and even though Prowl was turned away, Sideswipe still saw the officer shake his head.

**_No_**.

Prowl said something else and the unknown mech lifted his hand only it was changing shape and he was pointing a solar cannon at Sunny and someone was screaming and Sideswipe was trying to stand and he _didn't care_ _about the binders_. All Sideswipe could see was that cannon and the way Sunny's optics had flashed so long ago and the sneer on his face when he'd said, "I'm better than that!"

Ironhide was grabbing at him. He heard something fizzle and pop. Suddenly he could feel his left leg and he was standing up. Ironhide was holding him, trying to pull him back down and pin him and Sideswipe thrashed, managing to land a hit on the larger mech's helm with his elbow. Ironhide just grunted.

"Prowl!" someone shouted.

_Not Sunny! __**Not**__ Sunny!_

He couldn't even form words. His vocalizer didn't seem to be working and there was some awful, static-filled roaring.

Sunny storming off, footsteps clanking down the alley as his back faded into shadows.

"Then this is one thing I do alone!"

_Primus, Sunny. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you leave. I __**won't**__ let you leave. Not again._

And with a final pull, the pink energy crackling around him, Sideswipe broke free and the binders over his shoulders loosened. Ironhide was reaching around, fumbling for something just above Sideswipe's chest and Sideswipe snarled and pulled out his rifle and twisted around to—

Prowl grabbed his arm, bent it back and up, and Ironhide's foot connected with Sideswipe's knees. He dropped back to the ground, twisting and turning and shouting. But two mechs held him now and he felt a hand reaching underneath the back of his helm and close over his major motor relay.

"No!"

And everything went slack. Sideswipe slumped against the bodies holding him.

"No, no, no, no, _no_! Please!" Sideswipe said.

Both Ironhide and Prowl were running internal fans.

"Please, _please_ don't hurt him."

"Call Ratchet down here. I want him to run a full diagnostic and viral scan," Prowl said and Sideswipe heard Ironhide mutter to himself. The Second in Command was standing back up. He gave Sideswipe a last glance and Sideswipe thought he saw that immobile mask slip for a nano-klik. Then he was walking back towards Sunny, only his left hand had shifted into a weapon.

"Please, Prowl! _Please_! Don't hurt him!" Sideswipe said.

"Quiet down," Ironhide said. Sideswipe _knew_ he was going for the power relays next, shut him down until Ratchet could get there. Shut him down while they murdered Sunstreaker.

"I'll do anything!"

Large hands had manually pulled back the port covers.

"Please Prowl!"

He felt a data connector slide into his port. A surge of energy washed over his processor, overwriting commands and initiating shutdown.

"Don't hurt my brother!"

Ironhide accessed the proper command codes and—

* * *

'_backwards time-skip_' - Did that help at all? I'm trying to figure out a way to make the time line jumps a little more coherent. Again, reviews = HOSHIT.

**Elita One**: Go Sunny!

**pax-athena**: Thank you. It was written as a more waff-ish chapter.

**Sunstreaker**: Thanks. You make me blush.

**Trapped in Reality**: Thank you. As for the Autobots... well, it's a start. Though I think it might have freaked some of them out more than anything.

**blood shifter**: Sunstreaker does have guts. Everyone (and by that I mean the Autobots) thinks of Sideswipe = suicidal maneuvers, often overlooking Sunny, I think.

**Bluebird Soaring**: Yeah, they do. Thanks for the review!

**Thing With No Talent**: Thank you. Glad you liked it. I wrote it as a kind of nice, fuzzy break from the "OH GOD" of the story.

**cmdrtekk**: Yeah. I figured that for a long time, things would be incredibly tense between Sunstreaker (and, by default, Sideswipe too) and the others. It can't be easy running into the guy who tore you apart in the mess hall and having to _not_ rip him a new one. It's not something you forget. Glad you thought I did well with that.

Next up: Exhausted


	15. Exhausted

Chapter takes place right after the last one. I know. It's like, some kind of miracle or something.

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**15. Exhausted**

It had finally gotten quiet. The med bay was empty except for Sunny and himself and that was fine with Sideswipe. He shouldn't have been up; his joints ached and his legs shook as he hobbled over to the berth in the corner, using one of Ratchet's tool carts as a crutch. Low energy warnings kept popping up in the corner of his vision. He could feel the strain in his frame, but a little thing like that wasn't going to keep him from his goal.

There wasn't enough room on there for the both of them, so Sideswipe had to settle for leaning over, lifting Sunny's arm enough to slither his torso into the narrow space between his twin and the edge of the berth. It wasn't very comfortable; his legs kept threatening to buckle. But he was there, close enough to feel his brother's spark energy and so he laid his head down above Sunny's shoulder, next to his twin's head.

He could see the weld lines where Ratchet had reattached it. He'd done a good job, the lines were almost invisible. Sunny's missing leg had been found—what was left of it, anyway—and was lying on a stand off to the side. Sideswipe had overheard the medics talking, had heard that it would take at least three or four orns to fix it and reattach it and that was only if the supply ships managed to get through. Sideswipe knew Ratchet, though. He knew that one way or another, the medic would manage, he would make sure Sunny was whole again.

Sideswipe was tired. More than anything, he wanted to lie down and slip into recharge. That would mean leaving Sunny, though, and that wasn't something he could do yet.

"You shouldn't be up."

He had to power up his optics—funny, he hadn't remembered off-lining them—to turn and see the medic standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Ratch'," he said.

"How are you even standing?" the red and white 'bot asked, coming into the room. The doors shut behind him but not before Sideswipe caught a glimpse of the security officers posted outside.

"Because I'm me," he said.

Ratchet chuffed and made his way over to Sunny's leg. Paneling over his forearms slid apart and tools folded out as he began to tinker with the limb.

Sideswipe watched him for a moment and then said, "How's he doing?"

"He's stable. Which is better than what you're going to be if you keep pushing yourself. You nearly fried your circuits pulling that stunt with the energon binders."

Sideswipe smiled a little at the memory and readjusted himself, careful not to jostle his brother. Primus, but his legs hurt. A dim light flared up, he started to smell burning wire. Ratchet had realigned the upper and lower leg and appeared to be re-wiring them back together.

"Why didn't you tell me about him," Ratchet said quietly.

"I _did_," Sideswipe said.

The 'bot looked up from his work and said, "You told me he was a Neutral."

"I told you he didn't join the Autobots. It's not my fault you took it the wrong way."

"Don't try to pull that on me. I know you, Sideswipe. You're a lot smarter that you let on. You knew _exactly_ what you were doing."

Sideswipe could feel his systems starting to power-up again. His temperature was rising, soon his coolant fans would activate.

_Slag. I don't **need **this right now_, he thought. Out loud, he said, "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Ratchet's tools slid back up more forcefully than they should have. "Of course it matters. If we had known, if _I_ had known… we could have done something. We could have _helped_ you. The _both_ of you."

"By doing what? Staging a rescue mission? I didn't even know where he was stationed and half the mechs on base would rather see him dead anyway!"

For a moment, medic and patient stared at each other.

"We could have done _something_," Ratchet said. "This Prime isn't like Sentinel. He would have listened."

"Yeah, right," Sideswipe said. "Right before he booted me out or had me shut down."

Ratchet was silent for a moment. Sideswipe heard his vents kick on.

"You still should have _told_ someone. I can't even begin to imagine what this has been like for you. Why would—"

"And how the _frag_ was I supposed to do that? 'Sorry my brother killed your friend because he's a Decepticon. No hard feeling, right?!' _That_ would have gone over well!" He had pushed himself up on one trembling arm. The irritating warnings were flaring up again. "It was better no one knew. Then I could stay here and then maybe Sunny could have… he might've… and what the slag do you know about it, anyway?"

Sideswipe let himself slump back down and buried his face against his twin's shoulder again. His entire frame was shaking. He wanted Ratchet to leave. He wanted everyone to leave, just let the war and the questioning and the glares all fall off the face of Cybertron and leave Sunny and him _alone_. They didn't understand. They could _never_ understand.

Unfortunately, Ratchet wasn't finished.

"Prowl wants you both put into temporary stasis until this can be resolved," he said.

"What?" Sideswipe said and lifted his head. "_Why_?"

"Why do you think, Sideswipe!" the medic said, finally losing his temper. For a moment his fingers hooked into claws and Sideswipe wondered if he would hit him. But the Autobot just stood there, his optic-covers too bright. "Your brother was a _Decepticon_. He's responsible for a lot of dead Autobots, some of them your own teammates!"

"So?"

"'So?' '_So_?' They're questioning your loyalty, idiot! They're in the conference room right now discussing what to do with you."

"But I didn't do anything!" Sideswipe said. He pushed himself up, back onto his feet. It took a few nano-kliks to find his balance.

"That doesn't _matter_," Ratchet said. The way he looked at Sideswipe… he almost seemed scared. "You're twins. You're practically the same mech. For all they know, you've been giving your brother information this whole time—"

"I would never do that."

"And how is Command supposed to know that? Take your word for it? After you lied to everyone?"

"I didn't _lie_."

"It's close enough," Ratchet said. The anger and fear seemed to drain out of him and he slumped, optics offlined, leaning against a nearby berth to support himself. "Primus, Sideswipe. You really know how to make a mess of things."

Sideswipe wasn't sure how to respond to that. He had to reach out and grab onto Sunny's berth before he hit the floor. He really _shouldn't_ be standing.

"I don't think it'll come to that," Ratchet said. "With Sentinel… maybe. But Optimus is more, shall I say, merciful. I don't think he'll deactivate you. Even so, I don't see how you expect your brother to function once he's repaired."

"We've got him now," Sideswipe said. "I'm here. I mean, yeah, he can be a real slag-head, but if he's with me, it'll be okay."

Ratchet's optics came online and he fixed Sideswipe with a deadpan stare. "You really believe that? You think you can make everything better just by being here? You'll think he'll just turn into a good little Autobot after all of this?"

Sideswipe scowled. "Not exactly. Not at first, anyway. But he'll get better, you said so yourself. We're back together; things will work out." He looked down and traced along his brother's fingers. "And then we'll find the fragger who did this and scrap him."

The medic was silent. It took Sideswipe a moment to notice and he looked up to find Ratchet staring at him with… was that _pity_?

"What?" he said.

"You don't know?" Ratchet said.

"Don't know what? What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Ratchet didn't answer right away. Sideswipe watched his expression darken. The medic looked to Sunny and then off to the right. Finally, he straightened and walked over to Sideswipe, stopping just in front of him and gestured to Sunny's chest. Sideswipe winced. He'd been trying _not_ to look at it, to look at the glowing pink lines that ran from the gaping wound to the artificial pump perched to the side. While the injury hadn't breached Sunny's spark chamber, it had demolished his energon pump. That lay on a lower tray where the medical drones could work on piecing it back together. The only reason Sunny was alive was because of the pod shaped machine.

"What do you see?" Ratchet said.

"The frag do you mean, 'What do I see?'" he said. "Someone shot him."

Ratchet shook his head. "His armor is bent outwards. See how the edges are ragged? The only weapon capable of penetrating your brother's armor would be something like a high-density plasma cannon, and that would have melted the edges. This was _torn_."

Sideswipe started to feel a chill creeping up his legs. He was glad he was holding onto the berth as his knees nearly buckled.

"You mean someone… some Autobot…"

"This wasn't done by an Autobot, Sideswipe," Ratchet said. His tone was low and soft, probably meant to be comforting. It did little to help the furious whining noise in Sideswipe's processor. "This is where his decal used to be. His _Decepticon_ decal. And now it's gone. Someone made sure to take it off of him."

"Why would anyone want to do that? Everyone knew he… he was…" His fingers had gone numb. It was a curious sensation. "Decepticons? The Decepticons did this to him? His _own team_ did this to him?"

Ratchet did not meet Sideswipe's optics. "That's the only explanation I can come up with."

Without warning, Sideswipe's legs gave out. He almost crashed to the floor. But Ratchet was standing right there and reached out, catching the red 'bot under the arms and hauling him up against his chest.

"Come on," the medic said. "You need to get back to your berth."

"No!" Sideswipe tried to struggle, tried to pull himself back towards Sunny, but his body wouldn't listen. Ratchet was able to half-carry him, half-drag him across the room. "No! Sunny needs me! Take me back!"

"The slag I will. You can't even stand on your own."

"_Slaggit_, Ratchet!"

The medic had no trouble dropping him onto a berth. When Sideswipe tried to sit up, the medic reached up with one hand and pushed him back down. That one hand was enough to hold him in place.

"Calm down, bolt-head," Ratchet said. He lifted Sideswipe's feet, too, so that he was laying on his back. The next thing Sideswipe knew, the whole med bay swung around. He looked up to the medic and than over to his brother as the red and white 'bot pushed him, berth and all, back the way he had come. Ratchet lined the edges together. A moment later and Sideswipe heard clicking as the edges locked together, forming one, large berth.

"Thanks," Sideswipe mumbled. He started to scoot himself over towards his brother.

"Mmm," Ratchet said.

Sideswipe had to twist himself around a bit so that his face was next to one of Sunny's head arrays. Then he took his brother's hand in his own. As systems started to shut down, cool off, he found that his processor refused to quiet.

_The Decepticons. They did this. It was them._

"Go into recharge," Ratchet said. Sideswipe lifted a hand for a half-hearted wave. He almost didn't hear the medic say, "You're going to need it."

A breem or two later and he heard the doors hiss open and Ratchet's footsteps head out. The doors closed and the med bay fell silent. He laid there, quiet and still, listening to the soft whir of the artificial pump.

"Don't worry, bro," he said. "I'm here. And when I find those slag-sucking piles of scrap, I'll make them _**pay**_."

* * *

Okay, hope that wasn't confusing. I've read it too many times in the last few days to be able to tell anymore. Thanks for all the reviews! Broke my record... I replied to you all (at least, I'm pretty sure I did) through the website because, well, it probably would have been half a page to do it here. But thank you all again. It makes me happy to hear that you like this story.

Next chapter: Bath Time


	16. Bath Time

**16. Bath Time**

_Backwards Time Skip - Polyhex, Cybertron  
_

By the time Sunstreaker gets to the wash racks they're empty, the lighting dimmed, the room silent. He pauses outside the door, arrays tuned to their highest settings. Not even Ravage can sneak up on him like this. After a moment, he walks in, leaving the lights on low. He doesn't need them, prefers not to use them.

The spray heads come on with a groaning hiss and he stares straight ahead as the streams wash over his frame. He reaches up, grabs two of the course brushes and goes to work, very carefully not looking at his hands. He doesn't need to see to know where to scrub. He can _feel_ the filth crusting his knuckle joints, gumming the seams of his wrists. There are spatters up to his elbows and he knows without looking that his torso is no better. Slag, there's even some on his _face_.

_This is going to take a while._

It couldn't even have been considered a battle, really. Just a single squad of Autobots caught in the wrong place at the wrong time behind enemy lines. Another orn in the glorious war. They'd fought back, of course, which was why he'd disregarded Shrapnel's orders to take them alive, take them for "questioning." At least, that's what he's going to tell Decepticon High Command in a few joors when they summon him to the command chamber.

Two had tried to flee when they saw him but a well-aimed shot from his 'launchers had taken out their legs, and they'd fallen to the ground shrieking. The other three had shot back, not that it did them much good. One of the first things he'd done was upgrade his armor. He could take a direct hit from a plasma cannon and it would do little more than singe his epidural layer and leave a nasty dent. So they'd fired and screamed and called for backup right up until he plowed into the cluster, arm-blades unsheathed. Then they'd just screamed.

It's hard to avoid getting spattered. Sliced energon lines tend to spew and as good as he is he does not always manage to twist away in time. It was impossible when he had to reach into the chassis of one Autobot in order to rip his spark casing out—he's sure that that one had been responsible for the mess on his left hand. At which point the second Autobot, having witnessed the disposal of his teammate, glitched out and leapt on top of him, reaching down between his torso plating and tried to rip out his coolant lines. Sunstreaker had crushed that one's head in, which was where the filth on his right hand had come from.

So messy.

He finally dares to look down and frowns when he sees that he's gone a little overboard and dulled his coloring again. It will be irritating until it heals but he doubts anyone will notice. Even if they did, no one will say anything. They won't _dare_.

He reaches up and kills the spray, feeling his cables loosen a little as the tension slides away. It always makes him feel better to be clean. Internal fans kick on and his surface temperature rises, the fluid beginning to steam off.

A hit of energon is starting to sound good.

As he steps towards the doorway he catches a flash of gold to the side and turns, spotting his own reflection. He stares for a long while, pivoting to the left and right until he's satisfied. Golden armor perfectly buffed and shined; not a spot to be seen.

_Perfection_.

With that thought he forces a smirk to his face and turns to the door.

* * *

Augh! Washington is flooding! There's a small pond in the front yard and a brand new fountain down in the basement. With a _stream_.

To Exie the reviewer, alas, I couldn't find you on the site to pm a response. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Next chapter: Daring

Review this Story/Chapter


	17. Daring

**17. Daring**

_Forwards Time Skip - Tarn, Cybertron_

Looking back, he couldn't see how it had happened. The battle had been going so well. Sure, they'd taken heavy casualties and the remains of Tarn had been pretty much wiped off the face of Cybertron, but the Decepticons had taken a heavy beating too, and Sideswipe was sure that he had heard their call for retreat. It had been great right up to the point where he realized that they had no way off the roof of the last standing building.

"Fragging bucket-humpers!" Sunny, of course. He ducked back down of what was left of the landing pad as a new barrage of blaster fire arched overhead.

The Decepticons didn't stop firing. The makeshift barrier was starting to glow and get a soft from the intense heat. Sideswipe knew it wasn't going to hold much longer and even as talented as they were, he could see no way that Sunny and he would be able to make it past the 'cons to the stairwell on the far side without getting scrapped.

He shifted, trying to better position himself to lean over and take aim without losing a limb. It was hard. They had just enough room to sit in an uncomfortable crouch. To the front, beyond the jagged edge of what had been a launching pad was a very, very long drop. Off in the distance he could see flashes as the other Autobots fought off the last of the Decepticon onslaught. Sure enough, they were pushing them, driving the 'cons back.

So why the pit wasn't this bunch leaving?

"Slag sucker!" Sunny shouted.

Maybe that had something to do with it. Either way, they were fast running out of options.

"Hey, Sunny, do you still have that grappling line on you?" Sideswipe said. It would be too short. He already knew that. But if they could just cut some of the height off, they might make the rest of the fall in one piece.

"No."

Or not.

"Slaggit," Sideswipe said.

His beloved jet pack was useless. A well-aimed proton bomb had blasted right through the outer shell, melting circuitry and fusing the great, slagging mess to his armor. He was lucky it hadn't ignited the fuel tanks; he'd seen other mechs go that way and had no desire to make Sunny scrape his burnt and smoking carcass off the ground.

"Pit-spawn, rusted pile of scrap!" Sideswipe turned just in time to see Sunstreaker stand up and throw his rifle towards the cluster of jeering Decepticons and then sink back down.

"What are you doing?!" he said.

"Out of charge," Sunstreaker said.

Sideswipe's own rifle charge was low. He estimated he'd get another half of a breem out of the thing before it, too, was useless.

Both of them had to back away from the glowing barrier. The heat was so intense he could see the air rippling and felt his circuitry starting to sizzle. He'd probably boil out of his coolant before he ran out of ammo. Beside him, Sunstreaker crouched on the edge of the roof, hands against the ground to stabilize him as his back half hung out over open air.

Sideswipe looked out at the battleground below and then met optics with his brother. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to. Sunstreaker popped his wrist blades out and nodded. Sideswipe stood just enough to peer over the top of their barrier. He ducked back down before they could blow his head off.

"Five," he said. "Two big ones in the back, kind of to the left."

Sunstreaker nodded again and sidestepped over to stand next to him. Sideswipe set his rifle down, widened his stance, and cupped his hands, careful to avoid brushing the molten slag the wall behind them was fast becoming. Sunstreaker put one foot into the makeshift sling and braced himself against Sideswipe's shoulders.

"Ready?" Sideswipe said.

"Just do it."

Sideswipe grinned. "See you on the other side, bro."

And then he heaved. Sunstreaker waited until he was at the apex of Sideswipe's lift before he kicked off. Even before he could clear the barrier Sideswipe saw three shots nail him. Then Sideswipe was grabbing his rifle and diving to the side, out into the open.

Two of the Decepticons turned and he felt a searing bolt of pain rip into his left shoulder, another on his hip. He fired, aiming for the more exposed joints where their legs attached to their torsos. He saw a yellow flash—Sunny landed and whirled and a 'con screamed—and then he was scrambling forward. Another hit, again on the shoulder, and the connection to his right arm cut off and he lost his rifle.

He didn't even slow down.

The nearest 'con's optics widened and he took a step back. Sideswipe hit him with a roar. He caught him just above the spark chamber. Armor dented and something inside snapped and the 'con shrieked. Something slammed into his side. He felt burning and turned to find himself staring down the glowing tip of a cannon. He reached over, grabbed the first flailing mech and took a step back, using the momentum of the turn to lift the slagger up and slam him into his partner. They both fell out of his vision. He looked down, scanning the ground, searching, searching…

_There!_

He snatched up the rifle—the first 'con had dropped it when Sideswipe snapped his struts—and put a shot into the mass of moving targets. But then a proximity alarm went off and he turned his head just in time to see the massive frame of one of the bigger 'cons fill his vision.

The mech reached out; fingers clamped over Sideswipe's face. He could feel the tips digging into the plating between his face and his helmet. Gyros spun wildly and he was aware of his feet leaving the ground. He tried to reach up and shoot the slagger but another hand latched onto his forearm and _squeezed_. Sideswipe heard two nano-kliks of screeching alarms before something popped and plating buckled. He shouted. And then all sensation from that hand cut off, replaced with screaming, burning _pain_.

The 'con slammed him against the ground so hard it jolted his fuel pumps. His processor fizzed for a moment and the next thing he knew, he was looking up at the dark sky. A hand clamped onto his ankle.

_Oh sl—_

The roof scraped beneath him for a moment before dropping away and the world spun crazily. He saw yellow and bright, electric pink. And then he hit Sunstreaker. The two went down in a jumble of limbs and sparks as they slid across the roof, coming to a stop just a few metras from the edge.

Sideswipe lay there groaning, unable to push himself up. Beneath him, Sunny's vocalizer sputtered. Sideswipe could see that his brother was in worse shape than he was. Sunny had an entire chest panel ripped off. His inner circuitry sparked and smoked around a burnt hole where a 'con had shot him. One of his stupid sensor fins was gone, as way his right arm.

"You look like slag," he managed to say.

"Frag off," Sunny said, though most of it came out a garbled hiss.

Sideswipe tried to grin; it was hard to do with his facial plating all warped and crushed.

"You two Auto-freaks are finally going down," one of the 'cons said.

Sideswipe couldn't turn his head very far, but it was enough to see the foot right next to him. He heard two other sets of footsteps approaching. Three, total.

"We've all been waiting for this for a long time," another said.

"The great Sunstreaker, all beat up. _Again_. I think I'll bring your head back. It'll look great in the rec. room."

The third 'con snickered. Sideswipe could feel Sunny's growl through his chest.

_That's it, you overconfident fraggers. Gloat. Just get a little closer…_

"Heh. Yeah. We can have a matching set!"

"And we'll throw what's left of you back at those losers you call an army. See how they like that."

_Come on…_

Sideswipe was covering most of Sunstreaker, so the 'cons couldn't see his brother's hand creeping up and slipping into Sideswipe's hidden side compartment. They edged even closer. One reached out to roll Sunstreaker's foot with his own.

"I am seriously going to enjoy this."

Sunstreaker smirked. Sideswipe saw this and said, "You do that."

And then Sunny, who's remaining arm worked just fine, threw the pulse-grenade into the air and latched onto his brother, kicking both feet upwards and Sideswipe tucked himself backwards.

"What the—"

The two rolled into the stairwell right behind them just as the grenade exploded. A hot blast of air roared down after them as they fell, landed with a clang, and kept tumbling down the stairs as Sunstreaker cursed and Sideswipe laughed and the 'cons started screaming up above.

* * *

And so begins Busting Heads Week. Sorry I never got to reply to you guys individually. There's been a lot of crap going on and I just didn't have the time. That said, thank you so much for your insightful reviews. It's always a pleasure to read them.

Next chapter: Kick Ass


	18. Kick Ass

**18. Kick Ass**

_Forwards time skip - Decepticon Base, Sector M-8691-2  
_

"E.T.A. is half a breem."

The call comes over their comm. systems and the brothers silently note it. Sideswipe's hand tightens around the support ring. Beside him, Sunstreaker shows no emotion at all, though Sideswipe knows him well enough to see the tension in his frame. He's good at disguising it. Himself, not so much.

Sunny turns his head and gives Sideswipe a once-over. Sideswipe feels the unspoken question and grins.

"Ready, bro?" he says. Sunny nods and Sideswipe cackles. The hatch gunner stares from his post, his optics a little wide.

"0.2 breem."

The shuttle rocks as it's battered by the fierce winds outside. Sideswipe reaches out to steady Sunstreaker; his brother doesn't protest the contact for once, instead, reaching up to grab Sideswipe's shoulder for support.

The engine thrum is getting lower and louder and the two feel it begin to slow. Their comms crackle and both twins feel the electric build-up dance over their frames; they can sense the ionization of the alien atmosphere as the storm rages outside.

"0.1 breem. Prepare for drop."

Both 'bots move towards the hatch gunner who is only too happy to give them room. Sunstreaker goes first and Sideswipe sidles up right behind him. He runs a few system checks on the jet pack—it would be the shortest mission of their lives should that fail to ignite. Sunny shifts a little and though Sideswipe can't see his face he knows that Sunny's optics glow a hot white like his own.

"Counting five…"

Sideswipe shifts.

"Four…"

The shuttle rocks again.

"Three…"

Sunstreaker starts to roll forward in slow motion. He doesn't bring his weapons up yet; the wind sheer would just rip them off.

"Two…"

Sideswipe primes the jet pack for ignition.

"One."

The hatch slides open. The gunner backs away completely. Sideswipe registers a drop in pressure but his energon and coolant lines automatically adjust. Sunstreaker tucks and rolls and is gone into the dark red clouds outside. Sideswipe shouts an incoherent battle cry and hurls himself after him. Even before he clears the bottom of the shuttle he can tell it's picking up speed to get out of the storm.

Sunny has a small head start. But he spreads his arms and legs wide as Sideswipe tucks himself in and plummets. In the middle of the clouds there is very little light. Everything is a hazy red. Around them, the atmosphere crackles and a big bolt of lightning arches beneath him. He sees Sunny's outline just below. The sound wave hits hard and he's sure that had he not cut power to his audios, they would have blown out. Then he's passing through the charred air.

Sideswipe catches up to Sunstreaker. He doesn't have to say anything, which is good considering that neither of them are capable of hearing right now anyway. Sunstreaker reaches up and his hands latch onto Sideswipe's. He flips himself vertical in tandem with Sideswipe and the red twin locks his arms just under the yellow twin's shoulder struts. Sunstreaker then folds his own arms across Sideswipe's and grabs on. Sideswipe wraps his legs around Sunny who folds his own up underneath them both as moisture condenses on their frames and runs up towards their faces. Their position is totally undignified and he knows that Sunny will complain about it later, but right now they need to be as small a target as possible. So Sunstreaker keeps his grumbling to himself and Sideswipe doesn't goad him about it.

They burst from the strange clouds right into a war zone. Ion grenades explode around them as Decepticon and Autobot Flier Drones engage each other. The air is so charged by the storm and the artillery going off that lightning flashes almost continuously in a bizarre web of light all around.

A Decepticon Seeker screams by so close that Sideswipe could have reached out and grabbed his tail fins. His fingers twitch, but he can't let go of Sunstreaker and has to watch it go with a small whine of disappointment.

Until the back end explodes.

As the Decepticon lets out a screech and spirals away, Sideswipe follows the smoke trail back to Sunstreaker, who's calmly folding his missile launchers back into place.

"_Nice_," Sideswipe says.

He _feels_ Sunny smirk.

* * *

They're still dropping. They'd reached maximum velocity nano-kliks after leaping out of the transport and their frames are rattling. Sunstreaker's shin guards are starting to burn a little. The ground is getting bigger fast and Sunstreaker spots their target. It's a small fortified landing pad on the edge of a Decepticon base. Even from their altitude he can see the flashes of pulse rifles coming from the group of Autobots clustered around a ruined transport. Answering flashes come from the Decepticons on the walls and as he watches, more spill out from the base itself. He estimates that the Autobots have less than two breems before they'll be overrun. Above and behind him he hears Sideswipe laughing low and deep and he knows that his brother has seen the same thing.

"All set, Sunshine?" Even though Sideswipe's chin is practically on top of Sunstreaker's helm, his brother still has to shout to be heard past the rushing air.

They're still too high. Their only chance is to come in hard and fast and get below artillery range, drop in before anyone figures out what the funny red and yellow object falling through the sky is. So far, it's working.

"Oops," Sideswipe says.

It takes a moment for him to figure out what Sideswipe is talking about. He knows he has better vision, but it's Sideswipe who spots one of the cannons swiveling in their direction. They've been spotted. He suspects it has something to do with the missile he blew up that Seeker's aft.

_Oh well._

The cannon fires. Sunstreaker can track the pulsing ball of energy as it hurtles up at them. Sideswipe's jet pack is rumbling, he can feel it through his brother's frame. Sideswipe spins them to the right and the shot just misses Sunstreaker's legs; his epidural sensors tingle at the static charge. More cannons turn. Sunstreaker can see Decepticons pausing, looking up. He can make out individual features now.

Sideswipe ignites his jet pack and Sunstreaker is glad he's holding on as the sudden strain almost rips his arms out. Sideswipe squeezes his legs around Sunstreaker's waist; his own legs fly out beneath him. Metal creaks, joints groan, and the ground still rushes up. He can see the expressions on Decepticon faces. They're coming in right between the two largest pieces of the smoking transport and the Autobots stop firing and look up to see what the sound is—

Sunstreaker's feet hit first. Sideswipe immediately lets go. Sunstreaker rolls to the left, absorbing most of the impact without damage as Sideswipe mirrors him, coming up on the right.

There are four Autobots: Mirage, a light-purple mini-bot, some Special Ops mech Sunstreaker doesn't recognize, and, or course, the Head of Special Ops himself.

"Nice to see you two could make it," Jazz says.

"Nice to be invited," Sideswipe says.

Sunstreaker just takes aim on the closest 'con and blows his leg off at the knee.

"Trouble with the shuttle?" Sideswipe says.

"You could say that."

Sideswipe lets loose a barrage of pulse blasts and says, "Well, I'm no specialist but I'd say it looks pretty fragged. You might want to look into getting a new one."

Jazz laughs. The Decepticons are gathering at the north-east wall, just outside the main building and Sunstreaker can see that they mean to make a mass charge. Several of them outweigh him, with armor thick enough to withstand an cannon shot. His missile launchers would have no trouble piercing them, but he has a limited supply and there are too many targets.

"So, either of you got a plan?" Jazz says and pops up from the wreckage to nail a 'con right in the optics. The mech falls to the ground writhing. Sunstreaker meets his brother's gaze.

"Not really," Sideswipe says.

Mirage makes a "hrmph" sound.

"Well, that's okay. I came prepared," Jazz says and reaches down and fiddles around for a moment before a panel opens up on his right thigh. He fishes out a small object. Sunstreaker recognizes it instantly as en EMP-wave grenade.

"You know those things are illegal, right?" Sideswipe says and he's grinning.

"Good thing I'm getting rid of it, then, huh?" Jazz says, presses the detonation button, and chucks it towards the amassing Decepticons.

Sunstreaker reaches over and grabs the mini-bot be the back of his neck, pushing him to the ground. The mine explodes. The transport is built with EMP shields and hunkered down in the wreckage as they are, all Sunstreaker feels as the invisible waves rolls overhead it a faint tingling. Then it's passed and he's the first one to stand.

The majority of the Decepticons are lying in a tangle by the building. There are still some standing and so he takes a few shots before turning to join Sideswipe, who has by this point vaulted over the makeshift barrier and has opened fire on the 'cons atop the wall.

He has to haul the mini-bot to his feet. The mech is slow on the up-link. He's been hit pretty bad at some point and is leaking energon down his side.

"You get any of that slag on me and you won't have to worry about the Decepticons," Sunstreaker says.

The mini-bot stares at him with wide optics before scrambling after the others. Sunstreaker watches him for a nano-klik—making sure the glitch doesn't trip himself—and turns to take out a few more 'cons, then hurries after his brother.

They run flat out, weaving through the debris and enemy fire. They're nearing the wall when a massive 'con drops from the sky, nearly flattening Sideswipe. Sunstreaker sees his brother throw himself out of the way, dragging a startled Mirage with him. The huge 'con lifts an ion-cannon the size of Sunstreaker's leg and aims at the mini-bot who has chosen the perfect moment to freeze.

"Move!"

* * *

Sideswipe has enough time to shout before Sunny is all over the 'con. All Sideswipe sees is a yellow blur. His brother leaps up, wrist-blades unsheathed, and buries them into the 'con's cannon arm. The 'con grunts and reaches up but Sunny is already dropping back. He hits the ground, knees bent, and slashes at the thin, exposed line of wiring where the 'con's leg meets his body. Bright energon spews but Sunny is already spinning away, his arm transforming back to his pulse rifle.

As the 'con staggers, Sunny stands and jams his weapon in between the torso plating over the 'con's spark chamber, reaching up with the other to pull the big fragger closer. There's a bright flash and a shower of sparks and the 'con screams something garbled. Then he's falling. Sunny shoots him in the head twice more for good measure—until the 'con stops twitching—and then turns. Before anyone can stop him he marches over to the still frozen mini-bot and punches him on the head.

"You stupid glitch! Look what you made me do!" he says and points to the dripping patch of energon on his right arm.

"S-s-sorry!" the mini-bot says.

"Not now you're not! You wait until we get back to base! Next time, I'm letting them blow your ugly face off!"

It's the most concern Sunny has ever shown for another mech. Sideswipe isn't sure whether to feel proud or just laugh at the horrified expression on the mini-bot's face. The moment is cut short, however, when someone fires a rocket. As shrapnel dings off their armor and vents suck smoke, Sideswipe hears Jazz saying, "Alright. Time to get moving!"

It takes another few nano-kliks for the brothers to throw the four Autobots up to the top of the wall where Jazz attaches a grappling cable and starts scaling down. Sideswipe turns to Sunstreaker as the last one disappears and opens his arms wide.

"Shall we?" he says.

Sunstreaker fires his last missile—a garish purple 'con takes it to the face—and nods. Sideswipe fires up the jet pack again and grabs Sunstreaker under the arms. The two lift off amidst a stream of enemy fire. Jazz is the only one left on top of the wall. He waves and the two watch as he leaps off right before the closest 'con grabs at him, latching onto the cable about halfway down and spinning the rest of the way to the ground.

"Not bad," Sideswipe says, rolling to the side to avoid an ion blast.

"Meh."

They have to get out of range of the big ion cannons before the Autobots can risk a shuttle to pick them up. The sky is still full of Seekers and the twins can see the line of Decepticon reinforcements converging on a low rise between them and their escape. Sideswipe speeds up, blazing over the heads of Jazz and his team.

"I've got seven," Sideswipe says.

"Eight," Sunstreaker says.

"What?! You've only got six!"

"The big one counted for two."

"The slag he did!"

"He did."

"He _didn't_."

"He almost got your sorry aft," Sunstreaker says.

Sideswipe is flabbergasted for a moment. Then he rumbles, "Fine. But that still only makes seven."

"And that Seeker."

"Hey! We weren't even on the ground yet! It doesn't count."

"We don't have to be on the ground! _Who_ started that Jet Judo slag?"

For just one nano-klik, Sideswipe considers dropping his brother; they're not _that_ far off the ground. "Whatever. We'll see who wins when we hit that next batch up there. The loser has to take the next sentry shift."

"You're on," Sunny says.

And then they're over the Decepticons who open fire and Sideswipe lets Sunstreaker go and they hit the ground shooting.

* * *

Thus concludes Busting Heads Week. I'm a little dodgy about this chapter, but, well, it's long(er). Does that count for anything?

Next chapter: Drinking Energon


	19. Drinking Energon

**19. Drinking Energon **

_Forwards time skip - Ark 22  
_

It would be funny if it were any other mech. Sideswipe is not small; very few present would be able to hold him up with any remaining shred of dignity, though Sunstreaker thinks he's fast losing even that. No one is saying anything but that's only because they're too busy wondering if it's safe to keep laughing. Sunstreaker can only glare at them as Sideswipe shifts against him and rumbles in contentment.

No, Sunstreaker decides, if it was any other mech, they'd be dead.

Not everyone is in on the merriment, however. He can spot them dotting the rec. room, sullen glares in a sea of laughter.

"Really, really missed you," Sideswipe murmurs. Sunstreaker can barely pick it out of the garbled static. His brother's vocalizer has been getting worse and for the last four breems he's mostly been making noises.

_Embarrassing_ noises.

Sideswipe's fans are running and Sunstreaker swears that if he could just move his arm, he'd stab him in the optic.

Someone outright snickers and Sunstreaker's head whips around so fast he can hear the air displacement. It's kind of hard to get a good look at that angle, but when he does, he sneers.

"What are _you_ laughing at?" he says.

Special Operations Head "Jazz" just grins and lifts his cube of high-grade in a mock salute.

"Just thought I'd congratulate you," he says. "We've been trying to get him to 'relax' for vorns."

This causes a whole new round of suppressed laughter. Sunstreaker clenches his fists so hard he can hear his joints grinding. Sideswipe has somehow managed to not only hook one arm around him in such a way that his torso has pinned both of Sunstreaker's arms to his sides, but also to twist himself, one leg wrapped around and hooked with the legs of the table. Sunstreaker can't even reach around to slug some sense into him.

It had happened so suddenly. They'd been in the rec. room for the better part of a joor. Sideswipe had gone straight for the high-grade; Sunstreaker had grabbed his own cube and by the time he was on his third, Sideswipe had accumulated a small pile of empty containers. The room had started to fill up as patrols came back and, like usual, Sunstreaker had tensed up. Sideswipe had already been starting to slur and prod at him; it had been little things, the sort he _always_ did. But then, just as Sunstreaker was getting ready to get up and leave, Sideswipe had pounced. Sunstreaker froze for one moment out of sheer surprise and that one moment had spelled the death of his dignity as Sideswipe scooted across his lap and pinned him to the chair.

And then Sideswipe had started to _paw_ at him. _In front of the entire rec. room_.

Sunstreaker had snarled and tried to push him off but only managed to tip the chair over. Which was how he found himself on the floor, legs tangled with Sideswipe's and the chair, with his overcharged brother curled around his frame, nuzzling his shoulder and making little crooning noises.

He is going to kill someone before this is over and that mech's name starts with and "s" and ends with "ideswipe."

Speaking of…

"—and those fins. Makes you… your head… ummngh."

"Sideswipe, get off."

Sideswipe just makes an inarticulate noise and starts nipping at the exposed energon lines around Sunstreaker's neck. Sunstreaker bites back a hiss and thrashes again. Sideswipe giggles—_giggles!_—and wraps himself tighter.

"Get. _Off_," he says.

He's never seen Sideswipe like this. Part of him suspects that this is a ploy, some trick or prank that Sideswipe always had a flare for. He almost never gets this 'charged and the few times he had he got serious, not… not…

"I really _did_ miss you," his twin says, his vocalizer clear and static-free.

Sunstreaker knows what his brother means by that. But he's gotten so accustomed to it that he doesn't feel the ache anymore. Not really. It's just another dull pain lurking in the back of his processor with the other unnamed, unmentionable things.

"Sideswipe," quieter now so their spectators can't hear. "Off."

"_Please_, Sunny. I'm tired of this. I know you're not doing any better and if we just… if we just… it'll make it all okay! And everything will be okay. And we won't have to keep going on like this."

Sunstreaker is starting to panic. He _knows_ it's panic as Sideswipe pulls himself closer and his fingers fumble around his neck. Sunstreaker's energon pump is accelerating, backup power cells are priming for action as more power bleeds into his optics.

"_Sideswipe_."

"Come _on_, Sunny. You're my fragging brother! We're the fragging _same_. There's nothing in there that I can't handle, nothing I haven't already seen."

The laughter around them has died down, replaced with a peculiar tension. Sunstreaker is motionless for a nano-klik.

"We can't keep doing this. _You_ can't keep doing this," Sideswipe says.

"Sideswipe—"

Sideswipe draws back, opens his mouth and starts to say," No, you sorry, glitching pile of scrap! Not until—"

It's the opening Sunstreaker is waiting for. He twists his right arm—now free without Sideswipe laying on it—and punches his brother in the face. It's not hard. He's not trying to hurt him and Sideswipe reels back more from surprise than pain. Sunstreaker kicks his way free, scrambling to his feet and whirling to see Sideswipe still crouched on the floor, staring straight down. Without a word he turns away and marches towards the door.

**To be continued…**

**

* * *

**Holy cahones, Batman! It's an actual story arc!

So I've been thinking, and in celebration of hitting the 100 review marker (unless I manage to spectacularly jinx myself), I'm going to post a special side story. Or something like that. But I'm leaving the topic up to you readers. So if there's anything in particular you want to read (preferably involving the Duo of Doom), please pm or email suggestions. **Do not** respond to this in the reviews. So, yeah.

Thanks for the R & R!

Next chapter: Greedy


	20. Greedy

**20. Greedy**

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't… it wouldn't…

The rec. room was silent. No one said a word. Sideswipe stared down at the floor, listening as Sunny stomped out of the room and down the hall. He had known it was a stupid idea, known that Sunny would react the way he did, but he'd gotten so _tired_ of it all. And still Sunstreaker denied it; when Sideswipe could fragging _feel_ his pain leaking through the shredded remains of their bond. And _still_ he refused to merge.

_That glitched-out, slag-sucking, worthless pile of scrap!_

He heard a faint hiss and then Jazz was kneeling down beside him with one hand placed on Sideswipe's shoulder.

"You okay, man?" he said.

Sideswipe looked up at the officer. Worry was written all over Jazz's frame and it was all Sideswipe could do to keep his own seething rage contained.

"Hey, if you need—" Jazz started to say.

"Back off," Sideswipe said, swatting the hand off his shoulder. Jazz took the hint and eased away. Sideswipe climbed to his feet and stared at the wall for a nano-klik, trying to sort through the buzzing in his processor. He could hear the noise pick back up as 'bots went back to their business but it was quiet, subdued, and that made the buzzing louder. The worst part, though, was the tight feeling in his chest. He'd been so close…

A small spike. Sunny.

_That fragger_.

His fists were clenching. He felt a whir inside as coolant systems came online. Jazz was still staring at him and Sideswipe wondered if he'd notified Command of what had happened.

_Stupid, selfish, greedy slag-heap._

He wanted to curl up on the floor and whine. Agony lanced through his chest. It was getting kind of hard to stay upright. A distant echo of that same pain and Sideswipe knew it was just as bad for his stupid brother.

_This has got to stop._

It wasn't until he gave an audible wheeze that Jazz stepped forward again and said, "Maybe we ought to go see Ratchet, huh?"

Sideswipe took a moment to calm himself, ease his shoulders down a little, before he said, "No. I'm gonna… I'll be in my quarters."

Jazz looked doubtful. Sideswipe wondered if the Special Operator sensed some inkling of what he was thinking. But then Jazz nodded and stepped back and Sideswipe made his way towards the door. Only a handful of 'bots stared; most wouldn't meet his gaze.

Once he got outside it took only a moment to determine where Sunstreaker had gone and so Sideswipe went left, in the opposite direction of their quarters. He figured his brother was headed towards the wash racks—he always went there whenever he got moody.

Sideswipe took off at a brisk jog.

* * *

Sunny _was_ headed towards the wash racks. As Sideswipe neared he turned and some unreadable expression crossed his face. But then he stopped and crossed his arms and glared.

"What do you want?" he said.

Another twinge across their link. Sideswipe could make out anger, annoyance, and… and fear?

"What is _wrong_ with you," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics and the thin trickle of emotion abruptly cut off. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The slag you don't," Sideswipe said, reaching out and shoving him.

Sunny stumbled back, a look of surprise on his face, and for a nano-klik Sideswipe felt a twinge of guilt. But then his twin caught himself and the surprise morphed into a snarl.

"Slag off," he said.

But Sideswipe was past the point of caring. He'd lost his brother to the Decepticons, spent _vorns_ wondering where he was, if he was dead; listening to the stories as Sunstreaker built his reputation; laid next to groaning, half-slagged mechs in the med bay _knowing_ it was Sunny's handiwork and wondering if there was something he could have done. And then he'd found him, nearly dead and they'd gotten him back and he thought the worst was over, that he'd finally get Sunny back. But the worst part had yet to come. Sunny, his egotistical, self-centered, braggart of a brother had died somewhere out there on the battlefields and a new mech had taken his place. This new one, _this_ Sunstreaker was a killer. He didn't get along with anyone else. He tore up ally as well as enemy. He closed himself off from Sideswipe. And Sideswipe was sick of it.

_This has got to stop._

Sunstreaker was getting ready for a fight. Sideswipe could see it in his optics. He was _scared_ and Sideswipe wanted to know _why._

_I want Sunny back._

"Touch me again I'll slag you," Sunstreaker said.

Sideswipe felt a chill settle on his frame. Sunstreaker was serious. His brother had his back to the wall, head tilted down, and stood with his knees slightly bent, hands free and hanging motionless at his sides. He always looked that way right before he charged.

Sunstreaker was _serious_.

That chill melted into white hot rage.

"You slag-sucker!" Sideswipe said and lunged.

Sunstreaker was ready. Even as Sideswipe came at him he lifted his feet and dropped down. Sideswipe started to reach for him, started to shift his weight as he came around to the side but then Sunstreaker was moving. He tucked himself into a ball and plowed into Sideswipe's legs. Sideswipe saw it coming, though, and managed to land in a roll instead of on his face. He came up to face Sunstreaker, now across the hall.

Sideswipe eased to the right and Sunstreaker mirrored him, stepping to his own right, still in that crouch. Something in his body language was off, though. Sideswipe tried to focus on it but then Sunstreaker stood and took a sliding step towards his left and suddenly dropped down into another roll. Sideswipe was turning, tracking him across the floor but Sunstreaker was too fast, coming up behind him, just to his left. He reached up, one arm snaking beneath Sideswipe's left arm and below his neck and the next thing Sideswipe knew, Sunstreaker was dragging him back. He pressed down and all his weight was folding onto Sideswipe's neck. Sideswipe hissed as the struts and cables creaked, started to give.

He hit the floor. For a moment Sideswipe was disoriented. Then he tilted his head back, saw Sunstreaker standing there with that same, unreadable expression on his face. His brother opened his mouth and started to say something. Sideswipe didn't give him the chance. He threw his legs up over his head, landed, and pivoted, grabbing Sunstreaker's leg and pulling the yellow 'bot to the ground. And then Sideswipe was on top of him.

"I'm so sick of this, sick of you and your piss-aft attitude!" he said.

Sunstreaker responded by punching the side of his head. Sideswipe let go, reeled back as the feedback nearly blew a circuit in his audios. He felt Sunny grab his arm and start to twist beneath him. He had a moment to think, "Aw, sla—"

He slammed back to the floor. Sunstreaker was on top of him in an instant and when the static cleared from his audios and he could actually focus on seeing, it was to find Sunny's face hovering over his own.

"Stop it," Sunstreaker hissed.

Sideswipe tried to shove him off but his brother had straddled his waist, pinning his legs and holding his torso immobile. It was kind of ironic; this was the first close contact that Sunstreaker had initiated and now that Sideswipe had it, all he wanted to do was beat the bolts out of his twin.

Sunstreaker was still sitting on top of him. He wasn't moving and a small part of Sideswipe's processor whispered, "This is important. This _means_ something." But that voice was being drowned out by the cacophony within, wailing all the hurt and frustration and so Sideswipe surged up and the top of his helm cracked into Sunstreaker's mouth. No real damage, of course. Sunstreaker was too fast for that. But he did lift himself up a little and Sideswipe shimmied along the ground just enough to be able to drag his knee up. He planted his foot against Sunstreaker's midsection and kicked.

Sunstreaker went airborne. He landed on his back and squealed down the hall for perhaps a metra before he twisted himself up onto his feet. By then Sideswipe had gotten himself up and was barreling at his brother. He saw something flit across Sunstreaker's face just before part of his left shoulder unfolded and Sideswipe found himself staring down the barrel of Sunstreaker's missile launchers.

_What?_

Sunstreaker fired. Sideswipe could see in that nano-klik that his brother's face was completely blank. Sideswipe pulled his limbs in and threw himself to the side as a roar and a blast of heat rushed by. He hit the ground and the section of hall behind him exploded. The floor shook. His audios muted themselves against the noise and his optics rebooted against the flash. When they came back on it took a moment to adjust to the smoke and dust. Sunstreaker stood there, optics wide and bright in the gloom. Both mechs stared at each other for a moment amidst the shrieking of alarms and distant shouts.

_He shot at me!_

Sunstreaker hadn't moved. The opening of his 'launcher was still glowing a warm orange from the heat of the missile.

_He __**shot**__ at me!_

The buzzing in Sideswipe's processor swelled until he couldn't hear anything else. His vision seemed to crackle and the center of his chest gave a low throb. The next thing he knew, he was down the hall, smashing into Sunstreaker and plowing the both of them into the wall. Sunstreaker didn't react at all; he just kind of stared _through_ Sideswipe even as he hit the wall hard enough to buckle plating.

Sideswipe's hands were moving, clawing, tearing, but he couldn't see them. His chest was on fire and his processor flooded with internal warnings. His fans were sucking in air but it didn't seem to be doing anything.

_Stop._

Sunstreaker's hands came up, latched onto his forearms without really applying pressure. Sideswipe was saying something but he couldn't tell what it was or if there were even words. It sounded painful. Sunstreaker started to shift and so Sideswipe reached up and pushed him against the wall.

_Stop._

This had to stop. For both their sakes, this had to stop. He was still scrabbling for something and Sunstreaker wasn't resisting and something was _wrong_. Their faces were so close together that he could see the small gears rotating behind Sunny's face-plates as his optics moved up to lock gazes. Sunny looked at him for what felt like the first time and Sideswipe finally recognized that unreadable expression.

_**Stop.**_

"I'm sorry."

He didn't know who said it and he didn't get to find out as strong hands clamped down onto his neck.

**To be continued…**

**

* * *

**Lookie, lookie! It's a _multi-chapter_ story arc. Wa ha ha! Anyway... seeing as how this story has hit the 100 review marker, is there a scene or short story you guys want to see? Any in particular? If so, please pm or email me your suggestion.

Thank you guys so very, very much for the reviews. It's probably the best review-to-hit ratio I've ever gotten.

Next chapter: Well Shagged


	21. Well Shagged

**21. Well Shagged**

_Their first awareness is of each other. They've always been together. They're __**supposed**__ to be. They are two halves of a whole, individuals, but also a set. They are incomplete unless together._

_They're also in pain._

_It's been too long. Both know this. It's hard to deny when they can feel the awful tearing between them. It's hard to deny that quiet desperation. Despite the insecurity and the __**fear**__ there's a very real longing. But beneath that, deeper and unspoken, is another feeling and this can't be put into words. It's a thread of gold. It's warmth. It's concern. It's anger and affection. But mostly, it's __**whole**__ and the two sink into it, let it seep into the old cracks and gaping holes, soothe the burning and the screaming and the clawing and fill it with calming peace._

_It's been too long._

* * *

Sunstreaker is the first to online his optics. He's staring up at a familiar ceiling, though it's only when the red and white visage of the medic, Ratchet, fills his vision that he places it. Ratchet looks a little worried and a lot angry, though when he sees that Sunstreaker is online his expression softens.

"How are you feeling?" he says.

Sunstreaker wants to answer but his processor is blank and he can only stare.

This doesn't seem to surprise Ratchet and he nods and says, "Still recovering from it, then. Don't worry. You'll come around."

Sunstreaker is still having a difficult time trying to understand him, understand the words. But then the medic leaves his field of vision and it's back to staring at the ceiling again. He hears other noises, softer noises, nearby. Something warm and _comforting_ is right next to him. There's another mech. This one red and black and silver. Sunstreaker knows his name instantly.

_Sideswipe._

Different emotions swirl up at that name: affection, anger, suspicion, irritation, amusement, _guilt_. But it's nice to be near him. So despite the slight discomfort, Sunstreaker remains where he is, shoulders and hands and legs touching. He finds it's hard to think of that mech, that shell—because that's what it really is, a shell for a presence—as "other." It's very strange to lie there and stare at something that is himself but somehow _separate_. It doesn't make sense.

He lifts his left hand, the one touching that Other Self, and runs his fingers along the silver hand. It's warm. He can feel the thrumming energy field. He lets his hand drift back down to lie at his side again and the metal of his hand rasps against that of the Other Self.

Clanging. Another voice. Sunstreaker twists his head the other way to see Ratchet talking to a new mech—red like Sideswipe, but without the silver and black. Ratchet doesn't look happy. Red—Ironhide, his processor fills in—doesn't either and he glances over to Sunstreaker. For some reason this seems to make it worse and he quickly looks away.

"Listen, Doc. I don't like this anymore than you, but Prowl's orders are to get them to the brig as soon as they come online," Ironhide is saying.

"I _know_ that," Ratchet says. "This is crazy. Their sparks just stabilized within their individual frames. You can't separate them like this; not _now_. Do you have any idea what this could do to them? We're talking about irreparable damage!"

Ironhide shrugs. "I'm sorry Doc, but those are my orders."

Ratchet's hands are clenching and unclenching. He's got a scanner in one hand and Sunstreaker wonders whether he would actually hit Ironhide with it. He can see that the medic wants to. For some reason, this makes him want to laugh. But the medic doesn't. He cycles his vents and looks down. Ironhide reaches up and pats him on the shoulder.

"I'll do what I can to make this easier for them," Ironhide says and starts to turn.

Ratchet reaches out and snags the other mech by the arm. When Ironhide turns out of the way, Sunstreaker can see that the medic's face is hard, expression determined.

"Ironhide, you are not taking either of those _Autobots_ anywhere. Maybe later, but right now they're staying right here."

Ironhide opens his mouth but Ratchet plows right over him. "No. I am the Chief Medical Officer on this ship and as such, I can override any other officer in the event of a medical emergency. Those two will die if you remove one of them. So either you go tell Prowl to stuff it up his tailpipe and wait _two orns_ or have him come down here and _I_ will."

Throughout the medic's tirade, Sunstreaker can see the other 'bot's expression go from startled to amused, and by the time Ratchet finishes, the old mech is shaking his head and smiling. He reaches up and peels Ratchet's hand from his arm.

"I always did like you," Ironhide says. "'Stuff it up his tailpipe.' I'm telling him in those words, you hear me?"

The red mech walks over to the door, still chuckling, and heads out. When the door hisses closed, Ratchet turns back towards Sunstreaker and he's scowling.

"Arrogant, pompous, bureaucratic…" he mutters and Sunstreaker knows he's not talking about Ironhide. The medic goes back to fiddling with some spare part or another and Sunstreaker, bored now that the drama has passed, goes back to staring at Sideswipe._ S__eparate them_. He feels a twinge of dread. But the med bay is quiet and he's still tired. It's comfortable lying next to Sideswipe. Right now, that's all that matters.

**To be continued…**

**

* * *

**Thanks to Hearts of Eternity for letting me use her spark joining idea, though it's more of a hint than anything. And thank you guys for your wonderful reviews. Also, I've changed the summary just a little to include "Pre-Earth." Most chapters now have a location listed. Hopefully, this will help clear up some confusion.

Next chapter: Obedient


	22. Obedient

**22. Obedient**

The view ports are clear. The shuttle is still hard-docked to the Ark-22 but the docking bay is nearly empty. The cargo is secured, the pilots at their terminals; only a few mechs are bustling around outside. Most of them are going over the delivery manifestations, unloading shipping containers and verifying contents before loading them up onto the hover carts to take down to the Ark's own storage bays. There are two, however, who stand perfectly still and it's for this reason that Sunstreaker is glad he can see out of the ship.

Sideswipe refuses to look at him. He's still in binders, weapons removed and wrists and ankles secured. Standing to one side is Ironhide. He's got a hand clamped onto Sideswipe's shoulder but Sunstreaker can't tell whether it's to remind the red Autobot of his presence or to reassure him. No such courtesy has been extended to Sunstreaker.

Beside him, one of the Security officers is fiddling around with Sunstreaker's binders. The other stands opposite to him with a blast rifle slung over one shoulder. It's entirely unnecessary. Sunstreaker hasn't so much as complained, not even when one of those officers got a little rough while unshackling his feet so he could get up the ramp. But no one is taking any chances with him. They're afraid. They have good reason to be. A big section of corridor leading to the wash racks has to be rebuilt thanks to his missile.

"Step back over here," the first officer says and Sunstreaker does. He feels the binders around his wrists dissolve and then the cold metal is removed. There's a clicking behind him. He doesn't need to turn to know that his transport berth is being readied.

He really wishes Sideswipe would look up.

His brother still bares the dings and scrapes from their fight. He can see the burn on his left side, even from the shuttle. Sideswipe managed to avoid a direct hit but the heat from the missile had still singed his epidural layer and as the metal dies and chafes off, it turns a flat, ugly gray. It'll probably be another orn or so until Sideswipe's body repairs itself and he returns to his usual, vibrant red. Until then, he's stuck with that reminder.

Sunstreaker finds he can't look away from it.

"Sit down," the officer says.

The shuttles engines are powering up. He can feel the faint vibrations through the floor. The second security officer slides his rifle into place somewhere on his back—Sunstreaker can hear it lock into place—and steps forward, reaching behind Sunstreaker to assist his partner.

Sideswipe continues to stand still. He hasn't moved since Ironhide let him to the 'bay doors. His movements have been subdued, _small_ somehow, almost weak. Sunstreaker knew he wasn't damaged enough to be that in that much pain. His brother had looked at him for just a moment; his optics had drifted down to Sunstreaker's chest and his expression had hardened. He hasn't looked back since.

"Lean back."

It's harder to see out the view-port at that angle and he's blocked momentarily when they start fastening him down. Sections of the berth—specially designed for prisoner transport—slide up and clamp down on his feet, knees, thighs. More on his arms. Another over his torso; he almost hisses in pain as it grinds over the still-fresh gouges on his plating, right over his spark chamber. Then the clamps are up and he has to turn his head away when they fasten around his neck. Air brushes over his processor as the back of his helm splits. He can feel the ships vibrations much better, now, lying down. It rattles his entire frame. He can't move his head anymore but he can still move his optics and can just make out the edge of the view-port. Then the berth plugs into his processor port and starts accessing stasis commands.

_Sideswipe? Can you…_

**Thus ends this story arc.**

* * *

Thanks to the reviewers and to everyone who's added this story to their favorites and alerts!

Next Chapter: Dominant**  
**


	23. Dominant

**23. Dominant**

_Forward time skip - Autobot Lunar Base Taltos-1_

Sideswipe wasn't sure Bulkhead was going to make it. He'd been impaled when the shuttle crashed; a piece of debris had gone straight through his torso, nicking his spark chamber. The chamber itself had not been compromised but several energon lines had been severed and the young recruit was steadily leaking out.

He estimated that it would take another three joors to reach the outpost on the far side of the tiny moon, though that didn't mean much by that point. He'd tried hailing them eight times since the crash and so far, no one had responded. Considering it had been Decepticons who'd shot them out of orbit moments after they emerged from the wormhole, Sideswipe could only assume the worst. He wasn't about to share his misgivings with Bulkhead, however. The young 'bot was barely keeping up as it was. Sideswipe could see the thin trail of energon dribbled out behind him.

Bulkhead's engine coughed and sputtered. He started to slow for a moment before giving a lurch and pressing on. Sideswipe had slowed by that point and waited for the larger mech to catch up.

"You doing okay?" he said.

Bulkhead didn't respond for a moment and when he did, his vocalizer crackled. "Just fine, sir."

Sideswipe almost told him to drop the "sir"—he was a grunt, not an officer. But it seemed to give him some motivation and so he kept quiet.

"Just don't stop," he said. "I don't think I can lug your over-sized aft all the way to base."

Bulkhead grunted and sped up.

It was strange being in charge. Bulkhead was barely out of his protoform, leaving Sideswipe—the only other survivor—as the best candidate to lead them to the outpost. It felt almost… frightening to be responsible for someone else.

Bulkhead must have hit something because he sputtered again and this time he didn't recover. He just started to tip over in slow motion, crashing to the ground and laying there, silent. Sideswipe whipped around and transformed, landing on two half-formed legs. He was kneeling next to Bulkhead by the time the last piece of his armor slid into place.

The bigger vehicle had landed on his side and even before Sideswipe could turn him over he could see that the 'bot had reached his limits.

_Ah, slag_.

Bulkhead's undercarriage was slicked with energon and hydraulic fluid. He must have bled out half his systems. Metal screeched and sections twitched as Bulkhead tried to transform himself.

"Stop," Sideswipe said. There was no way he could pull that off. The strain would overtax the mech and he'd blow his circuitry, slipping into stasis-lock as the rest of his fluids drained away and left a lifeless husk.

"Don't move," Sideswipe said and activated his comm. system. [[_Autobot Sideswipe to Taltos Base-1, come in_.]]

Silence.

[[_Repeat: this is Autobot Sideswipe requesting immediate medical evacuation_.]]

Buzzing static. A faint whine and Bulkhead's vocalizer hissed, "Go, sir."

"Quiet," Sideswipe said. [[_Is anyone there? We have an emergency! Can anyone hear me?_]]

Nothing. Dead air.

_Slag this to the Pit and back!_

Sideswipe wanted to punch the ground. Next to him, Bulkhead gave another painful whine and said, "Just go, sir. You'll have to… _znnnt_… you'll have to leave me here."

"Don't be so dramatic," Sideswipe said, glancing around. The moon's surface was barren, just rock and dust. He saw nothing he could use to drag Bulkhead with.

"'Sss alright. I'll understand, sir."

"If you keep spouting that slag I don't care how damaged you are, I'll beat the bolts out of you."

A buzzing hum as Bulkhead tried to laugh. "They… they said you… _skshhh_… said you were like that."

[[_Taltos-1, come in you stupid fraggers!_]]

_Bzzzzkt… nnnnnnn_.

"It's, it's been an honor, sir."

Sideswipe rumbled and stood. He cast one, last glance around and then looked towards the unresponsive base.

_This is gonna suck slag_, he thought.

"I… I'll, I'll never forget—"

"You really don't take orders too well, do you? Now shut up before you run your tanks dry."

Bulkhead fell silent, but Sideswipe could almost see the question hanging in the air above the leaking 'bot. He reached down, grabbed Bulkhead's narrower front, dug his feet into the dust, and _heaved_. His joints creaked and he felt struts compress and still, he lifted, even as Bulkhead let out a strangled whimper and one of Sideswipe's knees almost buckled under the weight. Finally, when he had Bulkhead's front end up as far as he could get it, Sideswipe spun around and let the large 'bot fall onto his back. He stood for a few nano-kliks as his entire frame groaned from the strain.

_This is __**really**__ gonna suck._

"Sir?"

"Can it, Bulkhead."

He took one step, waited a moment to make sure his legs weren't going to give out, and took another, dragging Bulkhead's aft across the ground.

"Sir."

"Not _now_."

Fragging pit, that mech was _heavy_! What were his designers thinking when they came up with that frame? It wasn't even practical building a mech that large! It must have cost a fortune just to fill his tanks.

"Sir, I really—"

"Keep distracting me and I leave you to rust."

Sideswipe heard a hum. Bulkhead almost started up again and Sideswipe swore that if he did, he'd make good on his threat and drop the mech right then and there. But Bulkhead didn't say anything else and Sideswipe resigned himself to walking.

He'd gotten maybe a few metras further when the distinctive whine of Seeker engines caught his audios and he stopped and turned his head.

There, just above the horizon, was the tell-tale glow of a ship burning through the thin atmosphere. Two of them, probably come to pick off any survivors. Sideswipe calculated that they'd reach him in a breem, maybe two. He eased Bulkhead off his back—as much as anyone could ease a deca-tonne mech—and set him down. He flexed, listened as cables twanged and popped back into place.

"Sir?"

Sideswipe reached over and patted Bulkhead.

"Look's like our ride just got here," he said.

He'd been looking for an opportunity to work on his Jet Judo.

* * *

Note: deca-tonne is a real measurement that I might have messed up. It's like, 20,000 lbs. Bulkhead is a big dude.

Since I'm typing this and that means that I have to do it, within a week or so (hopefully) I should have the first chapter of a companion story up to clear up parts that I, dumb-ass that I am, forgot to explain. So... look for that, I guess.

Thanks to the reviewers and the watchers and everyone else who makes me look forward to posting!

Next chapter: Exploring


	24. Exploring

**24. Exploring**

_At about the same time - Sector M-2338-2_

Sunstreaker is bored. There's nothing to see out the view ports but a mass of organic sludge. The ship is empty, save for himself. The rest of his team is out on some sort of expedition under a mech who should have been shutdown an Age ago. They'd invited him along but he'd taken one look at the scanner readings and declined.

The entire planet is covered in some sort of organic growth—Synapse, the team's scientist, had called it "vegetation." Sunstreaker just hopes it isn't contagious. Outside, several clusters in bright orange and yellow and purple rise up to the height of the ship. They grow in groups, several long, fibrous tendrils branching out from a dark green base as thick around as Sunstreaker's thigh. Below, the ground is covered with a sprawling, tangled web of flat "vegetations", all of them an odd, glowing blue.

Sunstreaker's out of stuff to do. He's already run through the programs in the battle simulator _and_ done a full-body polish on himself; no dings or scratches to be seen. He's performed a full perimeter check throughout the entire ship. Nothing. Now he sits at the command station, scanning the monitors and wondering where the slag his team is. Two orns have passed since they left. The planet has gone through five rotations. And still, he's heard no word from them.

A shrill beeping fills the air and Sunstreaker lazily spins around in his chair to glance over at the communications panel. The beeping lasts only a few nano-kliks before falling silent, but it's enough for Sunstreaker to see that it's a distress signal. He reaches over to activate the message. A small holographic display pops up. The sender must have slagged his imagers because the picture is dark, the audios keep fritzing out.

"…lease… ge…is. Need backup! Loca… 42… s-thw… please. If… d hel…"

Sunstreaker can hear a grinding and a strange hissing sound in the background. He also thinks he hears the rough vocalizer of Kup.

_Outdated geezer finally fell apart_, he thinks. _And now they need someone to come in and scoop him up. **Wonderful**.  
_

* * *

The message had originated not too far from the ship. He'd decided to take off and land near them and let them drag themselves back. But a few breems later Sunstreaker finds himself hovering over a dark crack in the ground, visible only because it's the one place not overgrown.

He tries to hail his team. There's no response.

A scan reveals that he's sitting on top of some sort of large, underground canyon. He can tell that it's deep and that there's a faint emergency beacon transmitting from inside. There's no way he can get through the top—it's too narrow—though there seems to be a larger opening about half a klick away.

He has to incinerate quite a few of the tendril-things to make room for the ship and when he opens the hatch he gets hit with the stench of burning organics.

It's going to clog his intakes. He just knows it.

His first step outside and something squishes under his foot. He can feel a cold goo seeping into his gears. Sunstreaker gives very serious consideration into using the ship's pulsar cannons to just blow a hole big enough to get through. But the walls of the canyon—a strange mineral he isn't familiar with—are already cracked. Shooting it might bring the whole thing caving in on itself and Sunstreaker can't pilot the ship by himself.

He swears that if this turns out to be something stupid, he'll slit his team's energon lines during recharge.

Sunstreaker hops off the ramp and crunches over to the dark opening of the cavern, cursing the whole way.

The inside is dry and reasonably free of sludge. It's dusty though, and narrow. Sunstreaker has to squeeze through in a few places and the mineral walls scrape some of his coloring off. He's picking up energy signatures now. There are five, though one of them is fluctuating.

That's interesting. There should be six. Maybe the geezer really _did_ fall apart at the seams.

He entertains himself with that thought for a few breems as he continues deeper. It's dark down there. The planet orbits a red giant star and the light level is strong. But so far from the surface and with that disgusting organic covering, not much reaches him. He estimates that the surface must be about a klick up; he could fit the entire ship in here standing on its aft end and still not be able to reach the roof. Even so, he has excellent vision, especially in the dark, and it's not until he steps in a bit of foul-smelling squish that he turns on his exterior lights.

"Aargh!"

It's a large, now-cold pile of some sort of slime and he has stepped in up to the ankle servos. Sunstreaker almost leaves right then and there. He kicks, flinging pieces of filth in all directions and has actually turned to go back when he spots it.

The walls are covered in scorch marks. He recognizes the pattern of Autobot pulse rifles. There are too many to count, peppering the walls and ceiling. If he didn't know any better, he would say that all six of his teammates had stood there, firing wildly.

Sunstreaker looks down at his ruined foot, up at the walls, down deeper into the canyon, and back to his foot. The slime is already starting to dry. He can feel it oozing around whenever his gears move and he shudders at the thought. He looks back in the direction he came from. Then he folds out his missile launchers, grumbles, and heads further in.

The burns on the walls indicate that the others had come this way, still firing. He doesn't see any evidence, however, of what they were shooting _at_. No answering weapons fire, no nothing. Whatever it was, it was either very fast, tough, or, the likeliest option, his teammates had terrible aim.

_Stupid, worthless fraggers._

The walls are closing in. The passage is getting narrower and he has to stop when he reaches a mound of debris. The walls had caved in, pieces piled up, blocking the passage-way. Sunstreaker stares for a moment, shining his lights over it, looking for some way through. He finds it about four metras up.

He almost doesn't make it. Halfway through and he manages to snag one of his back struts on an outcrop. He has to tear himself free. By the time he emerges into the other side, missing a piece of shoulder armor, feet and legs covered in sludge, he's ready to pound someone's face in.

"Is someone there?"

"Who it that?"

"It's Sunstreaker!"

He looks up. Five mechs stand against the wall. It looks like they've melted into the surface but after a moment he realizes that they're covered in some sort of rough, crystalline substance that has, in effect, bolted them there.

"What happened to you?" he says.

But something is wrong. There are only four sets of optics. The fifth mech is offline, head hanging limply. They all bear strange injuries. He can't see well enough from that distance, but he can make out exposed wiring and strange, smooth sections in their armor.

That and they're shouting at him.

"No! Go back! Go back!"

"Get out of here!"

"Sunstreaker, _move_!"

He stands there, frowning, when something drips onto his shoulder. He glances over, and that's when the burning starts. He grimaces and swipes at it but that just spreads it to his fingers. He can smell his own plating sizzling.

"_Watch out!_"

Sunstreaker looks up. Something large and dark is moving along the wall. He catches a glimpse of a long, tubular body. Then the pale maw opens up right above him, dripping acid and lined with teeth.

He raises his missile launchers as the thing drops.

* * *

"That was amazing!" Turbocharge says. His small, blue frame is covered in acid burns and he's missing his left hand, but that doesn't stop his jabbering. "It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"

"I _know_. He just sorta…" Spitfire says. He has all his limbs and is using them to support his bigger, greener, one-legged companion. "And bam! Right into the wall!"

"Do you have a name for that maneuver?" the green one, Off-Road, says.

Sunstreaker thinks of his brother and his game with the Decepticon Seekers and wishes he could remember what it was Sideswipe always shouted before he leapt onto their backs.

"I thought you were a goner," Spitfire says. "I mean, it fragging _ate_ you! And then _boom_! You blew its guts out!"

That wasn't quite true. Sunstreaker had _tried_ to blow its guts out after it had swallowed him—_slagging disgusting creature_—but it had absorbed the energy from his pulse rifle. So he'd popped his wrist blades out to see if it was as immune to pointy objects as it was to energy discharge. It wasn't.

"That was the most… I don't… you're the most amazing fighter I've ever seen!" Turbocharge continues. He seems to be stuck on that word.

They're nearly out of the canyon. He can see the bright outline of the opening. The four surviving mechs stagger behind him, carrying the offline body of Kup—the geezer had made it after all.

The first thing Sunstreaker is going to do after they get off this waste of a planet is commandeer the entire wash racks and take a very long, very hot soak. Maybe for a whole joor. It will take at least that long to get the organic guts out of his gears. And it'll make him feel a lot better. The rest of the team will just have to wait.

He turns when he feels a hand clamp onto his shoulder, organic slew and all, and finds the fourth mech, Synapse, standing there smiling at him.

"Thanks," Synapse says.

"Yeah. You really saved our cranks," Spitfire says to the murmur of agreement from the other two.

Sunstreaker just stares. Synapse pats his shoulder a few times and falls back to join the others. Sunstreaker looks down to his shoulder and back to his teammates.

Well, maybe he won't commandeer the _entire_ wash racks.

* * *

Bleh. Ah well. As for the names of Sunstreaker's teammates... I pulled them out of thin air. Sorry if they're lame.

Thank you for reviewing and favoriting and alerting and all that awesome-sauce stuff!

Next week: Disheveled


	25. Disheveled

**25. Disheveled**

_Backwards time skip - Altihex, Cybertron_

He doesn't know how long it takes until he stops seeing moving targets and sees the actual _mechs_. A while. He knows that much. He was never good at keeping track of things. That was always Sideswipe's job, and without him…

He's done it again.

He's standing in a wasteland. The blasted debris of their fortifications are to his right, the hollowed, pockmarked remains of some city to his left. In between the two is a swathe of carnage and he is the only one still standing. The near-dead are moaning; shrill screams somewhere behind him. The mech—he can't tell if it was a 'con or a 'bot—to his immediate right is gurgling. Even as he looks down the gurgling stops and the pumps sputter as the mech dies.

There's a ding on his left wrist guard. Another higher up and his right side feels burned. Both optics and audios are functioning but he's reading a steady drop in energon pressure. He discovers why when he looks down.

Someone has gone and put a hole in him

He can't quite process this at first. He watches the glowing pink seep out and dribble down his legs, pooling at his feet. There's some blue coolant in there, too. It's leaking fast. They must have hit a main line or something. The hole is big enough to stick his arm in and he can feel air where there shouldn't be, brushing his spark chamber.

_Huh._

Something grabs his foot. He looks down. A 'bot—he can see the stupid red decal printed on the mech's helmet—has latched on with one arm. The other is a sparking stump. He's dragging himself forward, pulling his lower half along after him. Sunstreaker is surprised it hasn't snapped off; it's only connected by a cable and a few neuron wires.

The 'bot is trying to say something. Sunstreaker can pick out the words "kill you," but that's it. He's overheating bad; Sunstreaker can feel the heat from the hand holding his ankle. The Autobot looks up and his face twists into a hideous snarl, made more so by the fact that his jaw is gone.

He lets go and with a grinding hiss and a squeal of metal, his intact arm starts to transform. It's agonizing to watch. Transformation isn't supposed to occur with that much damage, but this 'bot is somehow overwriting that coding. Pieces are folding and twisting into place only to get caught up as a melted section refuses to budge. By the time he finishes, the 'bot is actually wheezing. He lifts the ugliest weapon Sunstreaker has ever seen and points it up at him.

"Die!"

He fires.

The weapon has not assembled correctly, has not been sealed off, and with the open gashes, the 'bots flammable liquids are exposed. The resulting explosion ignites them. Fire races through the mech's lines as the energon burns and within a few nano-kliks, the flames have spread throughout the 'bot's frame. He's screaming and thrashing and Sunstreaker catches a clear glimpse of his face. Optic shutters are back, features contorted in agony as fire leaks from the seams around his facial plating.

Sunstreaker kills his audio power and the battlefield falls mercifully silent.

The 'bot is engulfed now, a hideous mass of twisting metal and flame and Sunstreaker doesn't even think about it as he unsheathes his blades. He has good aim; a quick pierce through the chest and the 'bot stops moving.

All this has made his own injuries leak worse. He's getting those internal alarms again. The blue and pinks fluids have mixed together, turning into a slick, greasy rivulet of shimmering purple that is an almost exact match to the decal on his chest. He wonders if that was intentional, that color. He's never liked it.

"I told you so," Sideswipe whispers from thin air.

Where the slag has his unit gone?

"They left you. They've got no use for someone who can't obey a simple order."

He can't see any sign of them; no weapons fire detected. The sky is dark—no bombing runs. He tries his comms but either that glitch, Soundwave, has them all operating under a blackout again or they've been fragged, too.

"What _are_ you going to do, Sunshine?"

He thinks they went east. His last clear memory is of his battalion commander shouting for them to hold out, wait for reinforcements, not to engage. But then the Autobots broke through the line and some big green 'bot was _right there_ and then… and then…

And then he was here.

"You probably killed them," Sideswipe says.

It's true. There aren't just Autobots lying on that field; a few of the Decepticon frames bear his distinctive 'launcher burns.

Sunstreaker starts walking east.

"You know, Sunshine, I don't know what we'll do about this. You and I both know that this isn't the first time. Megatron does not suffer fools. Or traitors. We keep scrapping our own comrades and he's gonna do something about it."

He trips over something—he thinks it's a leg—and lands on his knees. His optics fizz out and for several nano-kliks he sees white. When they cycle back on it's to find Sideswipe sitting across from him, smiling.

"I wonder what they'll do to us when that time comes?"

Why is it so hard to stand back up?

"We know what Megatron does to those who disobey him."

He needs to focus. Get one foot on the ground. His joints screech a little and he realizes that he's lost a significant amount of hydraulic fluid. It's all running down his front, dripping to the ground. A black hand reaches underneath and grabs his chin, raising his head up. Sideswipe is kneeling there, beside him, face serious.

"We could stay here. Just lay down, let it stop. No one will know."

_Can't._

Somewhere in there, he's fallen and now his face is pressed against the ground.

"Why?" Sideswipe says.

_Can't leave you. Not you._

Sideswipe's smiling now and Sunstreaker feels fingers ghosting along his face as his own scrabble uselessly over the ground.

"You won't," his brother says. He's laying next to Sunstreaker and Sunstreaker can feel the warmth of his frame.

_I know._ Sunstreaker reaches out, strokes the empty space in front of him.

"Love you," he says.

Sideswipe's smile is sad. "I know."

* * *

Wah! Thank you all so much for the reviews. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside.

Three more chapters to go! o.0

Next chapter: At the Beach


	26. At the Beach

**26. At the Beach**

Sunstreaker can count on one hand the number of times he's seen his brother well and truly upset. As he rounds the outcrop and catches his first glimpse of the huddled mech at the end of the little inlet, he thinks that he's going to have to change that statement.

Sideswipe doesn't move. For a long moment, Sunstreaker stands there, staring. He knows that Sideswipe knows he's there. After so long apart, his twin's presence lights up Sunstreaker's processor like a small nuclear detonation. All he _can_ do is stand there and focus on not doing or saying anything stupid. Contrary to popular belief, he knows what he's saying most of the time, he just doesn't care. Other 'bot's feelings are not his concern. This, however… this is different.

"Hey," he says.

Sideswipe doesn't even twitch. And that's when Sunstreaker knows something is really wrong.

Physically, Sideswipe looks fine. A few dents here, a few scratches there. Nothing surprising, considering they had just repelled a Decepticon invasion; beaten them so badly, in fact, that the whole squadron was packing up and running, leaving the small, energon-rich planetoid to the Autobots. Not even _he_ managed to escape unscathed.

It's Sideswipe's body language. It's off, _wrong_. Sideswipe is the cheerful one, even when he doesn't want to be. It's not in his nature to be small and silent and unmoving and this worries Sunstreaker. He takes a step forward, waiting for his brother to look up and flash that stupid grin of his. When he doesn't, Sunstreaker takes a few more steps until he's standing right in front of the red mech. It's then, when he's that close, that he sees Sideswipe shaking. It's nothing much, just a fine tremor in his hands. It doesn't even rattle his armor. But that doesn't stop Sunstreaker's fuel tank from lurching.

"Bro?" he says.

Sideswipe chuffs quietly. His face is turned away and Sunstreaker can't tell if it's a laugh or a grunt.

Sunstreaker stands for a moment, looking at his brother and trying to decide what to do. He settles on sitting down on the iron outcropping the red twin is huddled against. His legs brush Sideswipe who leans in. Neither twin says anything for a long moment. Nearby, the gray waves of the mercury-sea lap against the shore. They're on the dark side of the planetoid now and it will be another four orns before it revolves again into the weak light of its white dwarf sun.

"It's kind of like home," Sideswipe says.

"Mmm," Sunstreaker says.

Sideswipe leans in a little closer and from that small contact, Sunstreaker feels an unpleasant shock race up his legs. It takes a nano-klik to realize what it is. By then, Sideswipe is pulling away and muttering, "Sorry," and Sunstreaker is left to sit there and watch his brother retreat in on himself. It's one of those rare times that he's distinctly aware of being an ass.

He doesn't give himself time to process what he's doing as he slides down and reaches out and pulls Sideswipe back towards him. This shock is more intense, lasting for a few nano-kliks, and when it has passed Sunstreaker realizes both their fans have kicked on.

Sideswipe again moves to pull away and so Sunstreaker lays his chin on his twin's shoulder. Sideswipe freezes for a moment. Then he lifts one arm—finally uncurling himself—and reaches up to set his hand on his brother's head, just behind his left sensor array.

"Thanks," he says. Sunstreaker is pleased to note that his shaking has stopped.

"Mmm."

It's a cheap substitute and they both know it, but neither says anything.

"You've got oil on your leg," Sideswipe says.

Sunstreaker grunts a response. This close to his brother and he can feel his trickle of amusement. There was a time when being this close to each other meant that one twin's emotions _were_ the other's. Now it's just a feeble wafting across their minds.

"Do you ever…" Sideswipe starts to say. Then, "Do you think things will ever be okay?"

He doesn't add, "between us." He doesn't have to as Sunstreaker starts to automatically withdraw. There's a flash of hurt and disappointment from Sideswipe. Sunstreaker stops and forces himself to ease back down.

Sideswipe utters a small, bitter laugh. "I guess that answers that."

"Shut up," Sunstreaker says and cuffs him on the back of the head.

Sideswipe's dark storm of emotion settles down a little, lighting up in a warm flare of amusement.

"Good to see they've been treating you alright," he says.

Sunstreaker doesn't have to ask what he means by "they." This is the first time the two have seen each other since Sunstreaker was sent off under the command of the ancient derelict known as "Kup."

"I was waiting for them to come back screaming, 'Please! We can't take him anymore!' And then I was going to have to take you and run off to one of those Neutral colonies where we would have to change our names and maybe even our frames and take up mining or smuggling just to keep fuel in our tanks and—"

"How long is this going to go on?"

"Or, you know, I could just run into you on some half-frozen battlefield."

"Hmm."

"So. Smash up some Decepticons? Make some friends? Bring me a souvenir?"

Sunstreaker almost pops him again. He's starting to relax, content to sit there and—_finally_—feel the resonance of his twin's spark. Sideswipe pats his head and leans back. The two watch the thin waves of the alien sea for some time.

"I'm getting reassigned," Sunstreaker says suddenly.

"Oh?" his brother says and Sunstreaker feels a thin tendril of hope flare up.

"Prowl's unit," he says. That thin tendril fades and dies. "Some meat-bag world out on the edge of the galaxy."

"Huh."

And just as it appeared, the light mood darkens.

"It's just some boring Decepticon-watching. Someone thought they saw Starscream out there."

When Sideswipe shifts, Sunstreaker thinks it's the natural disgust of having that fragger mentioned; all Autobots react the same way to the Air Commander's name. But then, through their dim bond, Sunstreaker senses something else.

"Starscream?" Sideswipe says.

"Yeah."

There's a short, heavy pause. Then Sideswipe says, "Be careful, Sunny."

Sunstreaker starts to pull back, confused and irritated, to ask where he got the bearings to tell him to be careful—as if he were some slagging protoform! Only Sideswipe is already moving away and his hand leaves Sunstreaker's head. He feels the most awful and peculiar sensation of loss. Then his twin is climbing to his feet and reaching down to help him up.

Sunstreaker snorts. "As if I'd want _you_ to help me. Telling _me_ to be careful. At least I don't go leaping onto Seekers screaming that stupid 'Jet Judo' slag."

"Not from what I hear," Sideswipe says.

It takes a moment for Sunstreaker to realize what he's talking about. When he does, he scowls and says, "That was an accident."

"Uh huh."

Sunstreaker is on his feet now. Sideswipe has started walking away and he has to jog the short distance to catch up.

"It was!" he says.

"Whatever you say."

"You're the slagging idiot with a death wish."

"Yup."

"And what kind of name is 'Jet Judo', anyway?"

"You're changing the subject," Sideswipe says.

"Well, we're talking about _your_ stupidity. This counts."

As they make their way up the beach towards base camp, Sunstreaker tries to lose himself in the familiar banter and forget about the anxious look he saw in Sideswipe's optics and the sharp spike of dread he felt right before his brother disengaged their bond.

* * *

Hmm. Fifty points to whoever figures out where this is headed (and another fifty not to kill me if you do). Thanks so much for the reviews. They make my world go 'round.

Next chapter: Naive


	27. Naive

**27. Naïve**

Very special thanks to Andrew Griffith for letting me use his comic for this story. This is what inspired this whole thing way back in July. (You can check it out at http:// glovestudios. deviantart. com/art/Split-Decision-81505666)

* * *

In a way, Sideswipe was glad it had happened when it did. The Autobot raiding party had busted in with smoke grenades and within nano-kliks he couldn't see a thing. Amidst cries of, "You're all under arrest!" and shrieks of rage and pain, Sideswipe had turned and grabbed for his brother. Sunstreaker had reacted instantly. The next thing Sideswipe knew, his twin's fist flew out of the smoke and smashed into the side of his face. He'd staggered back as Sunny swung wildly and then Sideswipe caught himself, catching Sunny's next punch and dragging his brother forward.

"It's _me_, bolt-face! Stop freaking out!" he said.

Sunstreaker had huffed and said, "I'm _not_ freaking out!"

But then another shape had loomed out of the fog. Sideswipe caught one glance of the red Autobot decal on the mech's shoulders and shoved his brother out of the way.

"Go!" he said.

A net flew out, grazing Sideswipe's helm and he spun around, slammed himself into his transformation sequence, and tore out of there. The Autobot shouted something after him but he didn't slow down to catch what it was.

He nearly ran Sunstreaker over. The arena was filled by then. He couldn't see his own hood and sensors were being scrambled. One moment he was tearing across the floor towards where the exit should be, the next he saw a flash of yellow, picked up the energy signature of his twin, and twisted away. Sunny must have sensed him or heard him or something because he turned and his optics widened and he threw himself to the side. Sideswipe screeched to a halt right past him.

"_Hey_!" Sunny said.

The smoke was starting to clear. Through the thin wisps Sideswipe could make out the outline of the door and he said, "Get on!"

Sunstreaker looked at him as if he'd just rolled in his own lubricant. "The frag I will! You can't—"

Another group of Autobots had spotted him and started in their direction. Sideswipe didn't give his brother time to finish whining. He plowed forward, hitting Sunny in the knees, flipping up onto Sideswipe's hood.

"You slag-sucking pile of—"

"Hang on!" Sideswipe said and then threw himself forward. Just in time, too. One of the three converging Autobots leapt, his outstretched hands grazed Sideswipe's aft fender. The he was out, Sunstreaker cursing and sliding around as Sideswipe shot out into the corridor, past another startled Autobot who plastered himself against the wall. He noticed the large transport sitting right outside and cranked a hard left. Sunstreaker dug his hands into Sideswipe's joints and he almost tumbled right off. Sideswipe didn't quite make the turn, smashing into the side and scraping along, leaving behind a trail of red and yellow as more Autobots emerged from within, screaming at him.

"You fragging glitch-face! You got my arm!" Sunny howled.

Sideswipe ignored Sunny's ranting and the punches that followed and focused on losing themselves in the dark streets of Kaon.

* * *

That Megatron character had more than a few bolts loose, Sideswipe decided. Killing a _senator_? He'd _have_ to be glitched to think he could have gotten away with something like that.

He was fairly certain that no one had been able to get a good enough look at either of them to be able to identify them. But it worried Sideswipe. The Autobots had staged a full-out raid, which meant that they knew exactly where the rally would be and when, which meant that they'd been investigating the fights. Which meant that there was a good chance that they'd been conducting long-term surveillance. Maybe enough to spot Sunny or him. And with the nasty turn Megatron had taken, his so-called recruitment meeting…

"Hey, Sunny," Sideswipe said, "I think it might be a good idea if we laid low for a while."

Sunstreaker snorted but didn't turn around. "Why?"

"Because I think the Autobots are going to be cracking down on the fights."

"So what?"

Sideswipe reached out and grabbed his brother's shoulder, spinning him around so they were face to face. "So they're gonna be looking for mechs who got involved. You saw what just happened. This is a big deal!"

"Oh please. They can't stop this. This is bigger than a few stuffy legislators."

Sideswipe drew back a little. There was something in Sunstreaker's posture, something in his optics, a dark sort of excitement. Sideswipe didn't like it. He hadn't been paying much attention to his brother during Megatron's little death rally—he'd been too transfixed by the spectacle taking place up on the stage. But now, as they stood face-to-face in one of the back alleys, he was.

"What if we were seen at that rally, huh? You think they'll just let us go?" he said.

"Well we can't throw in with the Autobots, that's for sure," Sunny said.

"So we're terrorists, then?"

"Terrorists?" Sunstreaker said. His optics narrowed and he grinned. "Or _revolutionaries_."

_That_ stopped Sideswipe's energon pump. "Are you glitched? You've seen what Megatron is willing to do. You _know_ what he's capable of. He almost _murdered_ a senator for no reason!"

Something was wrong. Something was really, _really_ wrong. Where the slag had this come from? Sure, Sunny had always been egotistical, cocky, even. But now he was standing there, his usual smirk morphing into something a lot nastier.

"And what's the alternative?" Sunny said. "Join up with the Autobots? I'm better than that!"

"Sunstreaker!" Sideswipe couldn't help it. He was suddenly feeling very small and helpless in the face of whatever madness had gripped his brother. He tried to reach out, pull the glitching dolt back but Sunny shrugged him off and turned and for the first time since their creation, Sunny's sneer was directed at his twin.

"If you can't join me, brother," Sunny said and started to turn away, "then this in one thing I do alone."

And then he was stomping down the alley and Sideswipe let his hand fall down to his side.

_He doesn't mean that. He __**can't**__ mean that_, he thought. They'd never been separated before, not for more than an orn or two at a time. _He'll be back_.

Sideswipe watched his brother continue down the alley, watched his back fade into darkness.

_He'll be back._

* * *

Ah, crashing. Brings back some memories. Good times. I didn't get a chance to go in and send individual replies (thanks to the crash over the weekend) so I'll just give a massive THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who has reviewed and favorited and alerted this story. You guys are the reason I post this. See you again on Friday for the very last chapter: **Playing With Kids**.

And yes, cmdrtekk, this story _does_ tie in to 'Infiltration', 'Escalation', and 'Devestation'. It's AU because of the 'Spotlight: Sideswipe'.

WAH! Only one more to go...


	28. Playing With Kids

Quick note - this chapter takes place during IDW's Transformers: Devastation.

**

* * *

28. Playing with Kids**

_Present Day – Tampa, Florida_

"You know, Sunshine, I think this might be it," Sideswipe says.

Sunstreaker can't answer. It taking all his energy to block out the cacophony of voices in his head and the sharp pain of them digging around in his processor all at once. Invading. Searching. He can _feel_ them in there, the Others, the Headmasters. They can see everything. They know everything. All his secrets, all his emotions and thoughts and memories brought to the surface for all to see.

And then there's that new one, so small, so helpless.

"This would almost be funny," Sideswipe says. He's crouched down now, next to Sunstreaker's disjointed head, petting the one side that isn't bleeding wires.

Sunstreaker can't remember the human's name. He did. He'd uttered it just a few moments ago. But it's hard to hold on to any one thought for any amount of time. The kid's name is gone. He's jabbering something so Sunstreaker tries to focus.

His mind is drifting. One moment Sideswipe is crouched next to him and the next he's swinging from Thundercracker's back and he says, "Look. See? There's nothing to it." And he unfurls a pair of giant, organic wings and starts to float to the ground.

"…headmasters, they look like you and think like you."

Oh. The kid. Right.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker tries to say but it comes out a guttural buzz.

The kid chatters some more and Sideswipe is looking at him and then back to Sunstreaker.

"Focus, Sunny. This part's important," he says.

"…one more in there?"

What?

Oh.

The kid's got his hand on the switch to that little machine tucked into the wall, the one that makes them, forges the uplink into his processor. _Makes_ them Headmasters. He knows what the kid is asking. He wonders if the kid does.

"Heh. Why not?" he says.

Digging around. The Others are looking, searching. They're tailing two Autobots through Chicago. The little he's seen through the carbon-monkeys makes him think one is Wheeljack. The other, he doesn't know. At least one of the little parasites has been trashed but the Others are closing in.

He wishes the kid had just gone ahead and done what he'd asked and killed him already. He understands, though. This is the kid's only chance of getting out of here and hey, maybe he really will be able to get back, find the others, Prowl, Ratchet, the Prime. Maybe he really will be able to get Sunstreaker out of there, away from the humans, away from Machination. The little slagger managed to survive up until now, despite everything.

"Ah… anything else I should know?" the kid says.

Sunstreaker looks over. Sideswipe is still leaning against him and he can almost feel the pulse of his twin's spark. The poor kid looks scared. He's seen that expression more times on more mechs than he cares to think about. He can at least give this one a fair warning.

"Yeah," he says. "It's painful."

"Oh, great. Now he tells me—"

In an instant Sunstreaker's world turns white and he can hear the kid screaming and he thinks he might be screaming or maybe it's just Sideswipe. Memories… not just his own. They never are. That cautious expression on Sideswipe's face as Sunstreaker led him to the arena that first time. His mother manages through a drunken slur to demand just where in the hell he got that piece of shit van. The first time he saw that grainy photo on the internet and _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was other life out there and maybe the world wasn't so small and horrible. He was _covered_ in that alien's filthy, organic guts and the look on Synapse's face and he felt, for once, that maybe it was okay to let up once in a while. He taped X-Files every Friday and watched it after his mom had passed out on the couch.

"Sunny!"

He had to go see for himself. He'd gotten a job at that crappy little taco shack and saved up for almost a year to get a car. Lord Megatron stood there and he knelt down on one knee; they called _him_ a monster but he knew that he was nothing compared to the real monster before him. He sat at the computer waiting for the dial-up to connect. He was eight years old and Dad had just brought the computer home for Megan and him to share. Watching that other 'con be ripped apart for his failure and he vowed it would never happen to him.

"Sunny!"

Mom's spaghetti. The cinnamon smell of Christmas and the warm look on Dad's face when he tore into the present and said, "Hey, thanks kiddo." The high grade was a little bitter but it was strong and that was all that mattered. He didn't just look good, he looked _perfect_. He hated his nose. Carrie had laughed when he'd asked her if she wanted to go see the new sci-fi movie at the Cineplex. He missed Sideswipe. He would rather have his legs ripped off than admit it, but he wished more than anything that his brother was there, stupid grin and all. He was sorry he had left.

"_Sunny_!"

It had hurt worse than anything, even worse that that time he'd looked up to find Sideswipe standing on the edge of that crater and the _horror_ written on his face. Worse was the humiliation. And the terror. He couldn't move. The humans had him clamped down and he could see the primitive tools lining the wall like some crude torture chamber. And one meat-bag was walking towards him with the welder and he was below his jaw, over his neck, and the pain lit up white hot.

He was screaming. Screaming, screaming. On the ground, the Decepticons around him as Megatron reached for him again and he knew, he _knew_ that he was never going to see his brother again. Saw pieces torn out, saw inner systems lying around him.

The humans ignored his pleading as they cut into his chest panels and pulled and then came the most awful sense of disconnection. Sideswipe stood there holding Sunstreaker's head to his chest and he could feel his brother's pain bleeding through his frame.

_Have to get out. Have to get out! Sunstreaker would know!_

Hunter. The human's name is Hunter.

The Others scream, too, one by one. He can feel them die and with each flicker comes a small wave of soothing relief.

_Hunter's limbs feel weird; they're shifting and it's terrifying. But the other voice, the Sunstreaker-voice knows it's natural. _

And it is, for him.

_Slow. Too slow. They must be tampering with Sunstreaker._

Discordant. Time doesn't exist. Just pain.

"Sunstreaker!"

Where is Sideswipe? He wants Sideswipe.

_Freedom! That big, ugly bug-bastard misses and Hunter plows through the wall and takes off down the open road. It feels really weird moving such a large body. But Hunter will get used to it. He **has** to. Now if he can just raise one of the Autobots on the communications he knows he __must__ have…_

Everything is getting fuzzy. It doesn't hurt much anymore.

A warm frame next to his. A soothing presence. He thinks he'll miss it.

Why is Sideswipe's smile so sad?

THE END

* * *

...Not. Here's a preview of what I'm working on next:

_Timothy McCarter is having a bad night. It's 3:18 am, he's stuck in a giant, mechanical body traveling through Chicago disguised as a bright yellow Lamborghini, it's been two days since he woke up in a ditch, and some punk in a red sports car has been tailgating for the last three miles._

Anyone know a beta reader with a _lot_ of time to kill and the patience of a saint?

Lookit! I finished a multi-chapter story! I've never done that before.

Oh my god, this story wouldn't have made it without your guys' reviews. I mean that. Every time I started to get discouraged, I read through the stuff you wrote and then got my ass back to work and re-edited the chapters until they were better. The praise was nice (like, really, _really_ nice), but so were the questions and the tidbits that made me realize I'd forgotten something or hadn't made something clear. Those help the most and I thank those of you who spotted them and let me know. Hopefully, this next story will have improved. So thank you very, very much.

I hope to see you in two months or so (the sequel is getting kind of long). It's gonna be rated M, so if you're perusing through the main list about two or three months from now, you might wanna have that checked. Aside from that, I'm working on the next chapter of 'Through Another's Eyes' so that should be up in a week or two.

See ya. ^^

I WILL HAVE IT FINISHED BEFORE THE NEW MOVIE COMES OUT.


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